


Innocent and Chained

by Ida_Killdabitch



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Aquaphobia, Azkaban is Hell on Earth, Charlus & Dorea were James Potter's parents, Claustrophobia, Eventual Smut, Hallucinations, Harry Potter Has a Sibling, Harry Potter is a good big brother, M/M, Night Terrors, POV Third Person, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Petunia Dursley's A+ Parenting, Separation Anxiety, Sirius Black has a Praise Kink, Sirius Black-centric, Sirius escapes Azkaban earlier, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24416890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ida_Killdabitch/pseuds/Ida_Killdabitch
Summary: To the Wizarding World, Harry Potter was a hero. He defeated Voldemort and saved his baby brother in the process. To Sirius, they were just his godchildren. He wouldn't fail them again.
Relationships: Eventual Sirius Black/Remus Lupin - Relationship
Comments: 31
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

“Padfoot!” There was a pause before the voice screamed again, “Hey, lazy arsehole! I’m trying to show you something here!” 

Sirius groaned and rolled onto his back. _Maybe if I don’t move, Prongs will use the mirror at a decent bloody time of day_. However, when James screamed his name again, Sirius knew he would just keep on until he answered. With a frustrated huff, he snatched the mirror from his nightstand. 

James Potter’s bespectacled hazel eyes held a mischievous gleam in them. His black curls were wild around his face. No matter what he did, it always looked like he’d never heard of a brush.

“Merlin’s saggy balls, Prongs!” Sirius snapped. “What could you possibly want?”

James grinned, not the slightest bit fazed by his tone. “Oh, good. You’re awake. Look at your godson, mate.” 

When the mirror turned around, Sirius saw the Potters’ fat multicolored cat, Hera, lounging on the kitchen counter. Harry was on his tiptoes in an attempt to reach her, with one hand on it for balance. When bouncing on his feet and grabbing at the air didn’t coax her down, the little boy huffed.

“Play!” Harry insisted, slapping the counter. He made the word sound more like pay.

Hera didn’t even twitch. 

“Get one of her toys, Harry,” James advised. 

Harry turned around and wobbled unsteadily on his feet as he took off toward the living room. It didn’t take long before the little boy was hurrying back into Sirius’ line of sight. The toddler had short black hair, just as unruly as his father’s. Harry returned with a plush fish toy. It was one of the cat’s favorites because Lily charmed it to move. He flung the toy; it took a few tries to get it onto the counter. 

“Attaboy!” James congratulated when his son succeeded. 

Sirius would’ve mocked the amount of pride in his tone if it wasn’t for the fact that he was equally as impressed. _The boy just threw a toy on the counter; it’s not like he wrangled a hippogriff._

Hera perked up when the fish started flopping around. Her tail flicked once as she stared.

“Play!” Harry repeated and pointed at the cat sternly. Clearly, in an attempt to mimic his mother, Lily, who always did that when she was scolding someone. 

Hera took a lazy swat at the fish with one paw, and Harry clapped.

“Play!” He squealed happily.

James faced the mirror towards himself again, a fond smile pulling at his lips. “My son’s brilliant.”

Sirius didn’t want to ruin the moment with war talk, but he had to before he got too distracted. “Sorry to be a downer, mate, but the sooner the Fidelius is cast, the better. I’ll leave for Wormtail’s after this, to make sure he heads to your place, yeah?”

“Yeah.” James sighed, running a hand through his hair. He seemed to age in front of Sirius’ eyes.

“You won’t have to be in hiding for long,” Sirius assured, though he had no way of actually knowing that.

“Prophecies are bollocks.” He let out an angry huff; hazel eyes flashed. “Who the bloody hell targets a _baby_ because of that vague, unreliable nonsense? Harry’s not even two!”

The prophecy doesn’t even name Harry or _Voldemort,_ for that matter. It could have been referring to any dark lord, in any country, at any point in the future. Prophecies can be interpreted in hundreds of ways and, as such, can’t be trusted. Yet here they all were, scrambling around because one arrogant arsehole decided it was about him. 

“Mentally deranged Dark Lords.” Sirius scoffed, just as infuriated. The war has already cost them enough without adding one of his godsons into the mix. 

James continued as if he hadn’t spoken, voice rising as he got worked up. “We’re going to be trapped in this house, unable to do a bloody thing! Eliot’s first Hallowe’en is coming up! Granted, he’s only five months old, but that’s beside the point! We should all be able to dress up and enjoy it! Harry is old enough to participate a bit this year! We shouldn’t be imprisoned in our own house while people are out there fighting and dying every day!”

Harry’s confused voice cut in before Sirius could say anything. “Dada?”

James took a shaky breath and smiled down at his son. He angled the mirror so Sirius could see the little boy clenching his father’s trousers in his fist. Harry attempted to climb into his lab without success. 

“Sorry, son. I didn’t mean to upset you.” James wrapped his free arm around Harry and pulled him onto the kitchen chair with him. “Dada’s all right.”

“Dada?” Harry asked again, patting his father’s cheek a little too roughly, followed by incomprehensible baby talk. 

James gave a sheepish look toward the mirror, and Sirius grimaced apologetically in reply. He was the one who brought it up in the first place and, like a moron, let the conversation go too far in front of Harry. 

“I suppose I should go to Pete’s now,” Sirius said, feeling awkward. He wasn’t good at apologies, although perhaps one was needed here, for upsetting his godson. “The earlier, the better, and all that.” 

James abruptly disappeared, and Sirius was left staring at his reflection. He never did say goodbye or give any warning before ending a mirror call, much to Sirius’ constant frustration. 

His grey eyes rolled as he tossed the mirror aside. “It wouldn’t kill you to end a conversation like a normal person.”

After going through a quick morning ritual, he got dressed in one of his favorite muggle outfits: leather bell-bottom trousers paired with a long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. James gives him hell for wearing it, no matter how many times he tells his mate it’s the fashion! Besides, he looked bloody fit, if he did say so himself. 

Outside, the love of his life eagerly awaited. She was sleek and powerful, truly one of the most amazing things muggles ever invented. 

“Miss me, Venusia?” Sirius gave his motorbike an affectionate tap and flung his leg over to straddle her. “I missed you too. Let’s hit the road, shall we? Or do you want to fly today?” 

He paused before nodding his head as if the bike responded. “You’re right, silly question. Flying it is!”

Sirius was surprised at first by how much went into driving one of these beauties, both hands and feet were always busy. He knew learning was worth it, though. It might sound silly to someone else, but riding his bike was one of the greatest joys in his life. Whether he was on the road or in the air, it brought about a feeling of exhilaration and pleasure that changes a person forever. He could never go back to just his broom.

The speed with which he shot through the air sent a thrill down his spine. Everything was clearer for Sirius up there, his reflexes and senses were at their optimum, ready for anything. The rumbling of the bike felt terrific between his legs as he let out a loud laugh, feeling light and free for the first time in days.

When Sirius finally landed his bike, he parked haphazardly in the Pettigrew’s front lawn. 

The house Peter still lived in with his mother was old and painted a ghastly yellow. It was long and narrow, perhaps only 4 or 5 meters wide, but it stretched some 11 meters back like a giant muggle shoebox. He was a half-blood, not that it mattered, with two half-blood parents. Mrs. Pettigrew hasn’t been feeling well as of late, so she took up a lot of his time, making her son not able to get out as often as he’d like. Peter talked about it at length to anyone willing to listen. Mummy’s boy, through and through.

“Wormtail!” Sirius called out, making the rest of the way across the yard in long strides. He knocked a few times in quick succession before letting himself in. It was locked, but not warded that well, nothing a good _Alohomora_ couldn’t solve.

Peter Pettigrew came out of his room with a baffled look on his face. He was extremely short, not quite reaching five foot five, and the long-sleeved sleepshirt he was wearing stretched tight across his portly body. “Padfoot? What are you do-doing here? You can’t just let yourself in wh- whenever you want!” 

His speech impediment improved a lot over the years, to the point where it was almost nonexistent. Peter loathed that a slight stutter still bled through when he was nervous. It never failed to give him away. 

“Since when?” Sirius snorted at the absurd statement as he made his way over. “Come on, quit joshing around, you need to head to Lily and Prongs’ place.” 

“I _know_ that.” Peter tried to sound irritated, but he was doing a piss poor job of hiding his nerves. This whole war couldn’t _be_ more out of his comfort zone. He was not the fighting sort, hated confrontation of any kind unless he had the rest of the Marauders backing him up. 

Which was precisely the reason Sirius suggested James switch who he wanted as Secret-Keeper at the last minute. Who was going to think it’s Peter Pettigrew of all people? Not a single person.

“Everything is going to work out.” Sirius gave a confident smile, laying a firm hand on the shorter man’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “They think it’s going to be me, remember? You won’t have to go anywhere near that old bastard.”

Peter shrunk in on himself, causing Sirius’s heart to go out to him.

“You’re my brother, Wormtail.” He said sternly. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.” 

Sirius wanted to deflect attention from the real Secret-Keeper. He hoped Voldemort _would_ go after him, the obvious choice, so he could steer attention away from Peter. If it all goes to plan, Voldemort will never know – but even if he did discover the bluff, Voldemort’s pursuit of Sirius would give the Potters and Wormtail time to regroup.

It was perfect. 

He even had a place in mind the Potters could go to as a safe house, should something go wrong. Alphard Black was Sirius’ favorite uncle, one of the very few members of the House of Black that wasn’t rotten to the core. Upon his death, he left Sirius nearly half of his vault as well as his house. It was secluded and well warded. Alphard was the type of person that kept to himself, for the most part.

That was all hypothetical, planning for the worst-case scenario, Sirius thought the Fidelius Charm was going to be plenty. 

“You can trust me.” Peter straightened back up with a determined gleam in his eyes Sirius was proud to see. “I won’t let you d-down.”

“Of course you won’t!” Sirius waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Do you remember how to cast your part correctly? Need me to come with you?”

He didn’t mean to be patronizing, but the Fidelius wasn’t something they could chance going wrong. Wormtail wasn’t known for his magical strength. Back in their Hogwarts years, if it weren’t for James and Sirius helping him every step of the way, he never would’ve been able to become an Animagus with them.

Peter rolled his eyes. “We went over it enough times a _squib_ could remember how to cast it.”

Lily would’ve ripped Peter a new arsehole if she heard that. She gets defensive about those things, even when the person doesn’t mean any harm by saying it. The thought almost made Sirius smile. She could be a terrifying woman when she wanted to be.

Sirius didn’t let his amusement show. Instead, he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “There’s no need to jump down my throat. It was only a question.”

Peter muttered under his breath as he walked back into his room, not saying anything loud enough for Sirius to make out. It was funny when Peter was annoyed, making it difficult to feel bad for unintentionally insulting him. All Sirius could picture in his head was a fat rat shaking its tail and baring its teeth.

“Let me know how it goes!” Sirius called over his shoulder as he made his way outside. Venusia was waiting right where he left her. “We should head to Gringotts to deposit some money into the Order’s account. After that, I suppose it’ll be back to the flat for us.”

Sirius has been fighting in this war since graduating Hogwarts. It’s been his life for years. One battle after the next, taking risks and doing everything he could to help end it. However, now that Dumbledore thought Sirius was the Secret-Keeper, he knows he won’t be getting any missions that were too dangerous for a while.

* * *

It turned out he was right. The next four days, scouting and reporting were the only things he was permitted to do. It drove Sirius barmy, he felt like a glorified watchdog.

The Potter’s Great Grey Owl was waiting for him by the window when he returned that fourth evening. Sirius rushed over to let him in, anticipation rising. Godfrey was a silvery grey overall—patterned with delicate white, grey, and brown streaking and faint barring. His yellow eyes gazed at Sirius impatiently as he stuck out his leg. 

“Sorry, Godfrey.” Sirius gently unraveled the letter and gave him a treat. Godfrey settled in and made himself comfortable, waiting for a reply.

The parchment was blank, and Sirius’s heart lurched painfully into a beating frenzy.

James and Lily lent Remus their owl a month ago when he went away again for the umpteenth time. All he ever said before he disappeared was _Dumbledore’s orders._ When he got back, and they inquired about his haggard appearance and the shifty look in his eyes, he told them Dumbledore swore him to secrecy. His constant disappearing act was straining his relationship with the rest of the Order, especially now that they knew there was a spy among them. 

Sirius tapped his wand to the parchment to reveal what was written and muttered, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

That charm started with their Marauder’s Map in school and continued when any of them needed to write a confidential letter.

**_Dear Padfoot,_**

**_I know it’s been a while since we last wrote, but I received word about Lily and James. You’re in a dangerous position, and you know I cannot help but worry. Be safe. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you._**

**_Yours, Moony_**

Sirius stared down at it incredulously, anger and disappointment quickly replaced his anticipation. That was it? That was the whole letter? He doesn’t hear from Remus in weeks, and all he gets is three measly sentences? 

He decided to keep his letter just as short and to the point in response. 

**_Dear Moony,_**

**_Everything is fine here. You stay safe on those special little trips of yours. Even though you won’t tell us what it is you’re doing, I’m sure it’s dangerous._**

**_Padfoot_**

Sirius tied the letter to Godfrey’s leg and watched him fly off.

“I couldn’t bear if something happened to you, Sirius.” He mocked in a high-pitched falsetto. “I’m only going to talk to you twice after Eliot is born and then send a short, cryptic letter that tells you absolutely _nothing_! I could’ve been dead for all you knew, but _I care for you so much, Sirius_.”

How did their relationship come to this? He wondered. The last time things felt normal between them was James and Lily’s wedding. Remus kept pulling further away, and he didn’t know how to stop it. Sirius didn’t want to believe Remus was the spy, not his Moony, the person he’s been in love with since 5th year. Merlin forbid the other man let anything happen between them, though. Self-sabotaging git. 

The Remus that used to leave little notes in the library books written on scraps of parchment couldn’t do something like this. Usually silly anecdotes instead of something inspirational or even relevant to said book. It never failed to make Sirius laugh. That Remus was smart, kind, and dry-witted. He was incapable of treachery.

Then again, he only ever saw himself as one thing, a werewolf, no matter what any of them said. What would he do to get the benefits Voldemort was promising? How far would he be willing to go? 

Sirius forced himself to think of something else. If he didn’t, he’d dwell on it all night. He’s lost enough sleep because of Remus John Lupin, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, that didn’t work as he hoped it would. Sirius didn’t sleep well that night, or the night after.

Two days later, Hallowe’en afternoon, Sirius decided to mirror call James to check-in. It’s been too calm, and that worried him. He stayed in the flat for the most part - except when he was scouting - and neither Voldemort nor his Death Eaters have made any moves toward him. Between that and Sirius not hearing from Peter since the Fidelius was cast, he was feeling quite uneasy.

Something wasn’t right. 

“Have you heard from Wormtail?” Sirius demanded when James answered. 

“No, I haven’t,” James replied, a concerned frown pulled at his lips. “He said he was going to keep his distance, for safety’s sake, but I’m getting worried. Check on him, won’t you?”

“I will,” Sirius promised. “It’s odd, isn’t it? Why hasn’t he tried to come for me yet? Dumbledore said he was getting impatient. The spy must have told him about the Fidelius Charm. The whole Order knew it was getting cast.”

James ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further. “I dunno, mate. Maybe he’s waiting until you let your guard down?”

“It’s been nearly a week.” Sirius gritted his teeth. “I’m getting more on guard, not less.” 

This week felt like the calm before the storm. Something was going to happen soon; Sirius just knew it.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” James soothed, for he had full faith in Dumbledore and his best mates. “Checking on Wormtail will make you feel better.”

Sirius inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself. “You’re right.” He inhaled and exhaled, slower this time, deliberate. “You’re right.”

“Would you like to see your godchildren?” James grinned encouragingly. “They’ll make you feel better.”

“Yeah.” Sirius tried to match the grin but still felt like something was going to go wrong. He just wished he knew what.

James faced the mirror around so Sirius could see him making his way into the living room. A large blanket was spread across the floor. Lily had Eliot in her lap; Harry sat in front of them. He had building blocks and a plush stag by his side. Two blocks were connected, and the toddler picked up a blue one, instead of placing it on top of others, he used it to swipe at his little tower, knocking it across the blanket. 

Eliot stared at his older brother in fasciation, kicking his tiny legs. Unlike Harry, the youngest Potter child barely had any hair at all. 

“Hey, Lily.” Sirius greeted when James sat on the side of the blanket opposite his wife. Lily looked away from Harry to give him a smile, her rich auburn hair in a high ponytail. “How’s Lio doing?” 

Lily tickled Eliot’s side, causing him to let out a happy squeal. “He’s great, we just have to make sure he sleeps enough, fussy little thing, or he’ll make us regret it.” The baby kicked his legs harder in her lap, Sirius imagined that was him disagreeing with the fussy remark. “Eliot did roll over on his own for the first time yesterday!”

“Scared the bloody hell out of himself.” James laughed, and Lily shot him a _look_ for cursing in front of the children. 

Sirius snorted. He was starting to feel better, despite himself. “I hope you got a picture of that!” 

“I wish.” Lily smiled; her green eyes were bright. “Next time, I’ll make sure to catch it.”

Harry turned toward the mirror his father was holding and gave his godfather a smile when he saw his face. “Foo!” It was his version of Padfoot, seeing as he was too young to pronounce it correctly. 

“Hey, Prongslet!” Sirius made a silly face, and Harry laughed.

“Foo,” said Harry, holding up a block. 

Sirius nodded, “Brilliant, mate. I wish I had blocks like that! Are you having fun?”

When the toddler smiled, it made his eyes squint, and his nose crinkle. He radiated happiness. Sirius felt like the most important person in the world.

He visited for about an hour and a half more before ending the mirror call. Talking to James and Lily, and seeing the children, helped but he still wanted to go to Peter’s. After checking over Venusia, making sure she was ready to go, Sirius took to the sky. He flew as fast as he was able, hair whipping madly around his face. Midway he wondered if he should’ve apparated instead.

“You don’t need to apparate,” Sirius muttered to himself as he tightened his grip around the steering wheel. “There’s no emergency. You just spoke to them, they’re fine. Wormtail will be fine too.”

He finally landed in front of that ugly yellow house after what felt like ages and couldn’t get off of his motorbike fast enough. “Wormtail!”

Sirius ran across the yard and unlocked the front door. He went through the house, flinging open all the doors with a loud _bang_! Panic was growing inside of him, no matter how hard he tried to curb it.

He heard Mrs. Pettigrew in her bedroom, demanding to know what was going on. Seeing as her room was the last one to check, he opened her door with an apologetic look.

The woman in bed glared and pointed her wand at his face. “What is the meaning of this?”

Sirius grimaced. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Worm– I mean Peter is, would you, Mrs. Pettigrew?”

Mrs. Pettigrew looked down her nose at him. She never thought very highly of Sirius. “No, he didn’t tell me where he was going. Now leave my house at once! I won’t have all that racket!” 

Sirius left without protest. Outside, he stared at the way the setting sun cast yellow, orange, and red hues across the sky as worry twisted his insides. He tried to reassure himself that just because Peter wasn’t here didn’t mean something was wrong. The anxiety growing at an alarming rate in his stomach wasn’t convinced.

“We’ll check one more place,” He told Venusia, in an attempt to feel in control of the situation. “Then we’ll go to Prongs’. Wormtail didn’t tell us where they were. We won’t be able to see anything.” He straddled his motorbike and grabbed the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. “I’m going to feel silly for panicking like this over nothing. Prongs was right; everything is fine.”

Sirius was only half-aware of his mumbled reassurances at this point; his full focus was on going to Peter’s favorite place to unwind. He went there when things were too much for him, and he needed to take a moment for himself. Saltburn-by-the-Sea, North Yorkshire, was only 19 km south of Hartlepool, where the Pettigrew’s lived. There were a lot of muggles, so they had muggle-repellent and notice-me-not charms surrounding their property. Similar to the ones on Sirius’ motorbike, it wouldn’t do for a muggle to see it flying after all. 

By the time he got to Saltburn-by-the-Sea, the sun had set. Muggles still walked up and down the beach, and the coastline curved, golden sand made a thick band between the waves and the vegetation beyond. He drove further still, toward the other side of Peter’s favorite cliff. There’s a spot he found when he was young, tucked out of view, and Wormtail told the Marauder’s he could spend hours sitting there, relaxing by the ocean. 

“Are you here, Wormtail?” Sirius called, getting off the bike. “James is worried about you, mate. You really shouldn’t leave your mother’s unless you have to.”

He looked all around Peter’s spot but couldn’t find him anywhere. _Where in the bloody hell is that prat?_ That was it. He was going to Godric’s Hollow. He had to reassure himself that the Fidelius Charm was still holding strong, then he’d hunt down Peter and strangle the bastard for frightening the piss out of him.

This time, he didn’t bother flying or driving. Instead, he made sure he had a good hold on Venusia and apparated, the sound of it echoed after he was gone. He felt like someone punched him in the stomach when he settled on the Potter’s front lawn. Apparating with the motorbike was something he will _not_ be doing again. It was not the same as bringing another person sidelong at all. 

“Bloody hell.” Sirius gasped, winded, and looked up. His whole world shattered at the sight that awaited him. The front door was hanging off its hinges, and the roof over the nursey was blown clean off. 

No. 

No, Wormtail wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

There had to be some kind of mistake, Sirius just spoke to them that afternoon.

He spent a while standing there, holding on to denial, trying to rationalize away what he was seeing. James was his best friend, his brother. He’s been in Sirius’s life since that first day on the train all those years ago. He got married and had two children. His life was just _beginning_. It couldn’t be over. Voldemort couldn’t have been here. The Fidelius Charm was supposed to keep them _safe_. No one knew about the switch! It was supposed to be HIM Voldemort came after!

Wormtail wouldn’t condemn an entire family to death, especially not _that_ family. He adored James. He went to the wedding and was there when Harry was born. Wormtail held Eliot in his arms when the baby was only a week old. He was an _uncle_ to those children. 

_The children._ Merlin have mercy, not his godchildren.

Sirius collapsed when the reality of it finally hit, tears blurred his vision and poured down his cheeks. The grief came in waves and threatened to consume him entirely. Violent sobs racked his body. 

A loud, booming voice made his head shoot up. “Sirius?” Hagrid stood on the porch, looking as confused as Sirius felt. The half-giant was tall, easily over 8 feet, with shaggy hair and a wild, tangled beard. 

How was he here? Stupid question. A better one would be how Dumbledore knew to send him. How long has he been here? When did _it_ happen? Right after they ended the mirror call earlier? While Sirius was wasting his time at Mrs. Pettigrew’s or Peter’s spot? 

“Hagrid?” Sirius rasped, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robes. Wait… Sirius blinked rapidly. Was that… was he holding? “Are they…?”

A flicker of hope ignited in his chest. 

Hagrid had a child resting their head on each shoulder. They were both wrapped in a blanket, and his arms held them securely. He gave Sirius a shaky smile, “They're alive,” He promised, “come see fer yourself.”

Sirius didn’t need to be told twice, he bolted to the porch on unsteady legs and reached a shaking hand up to put on Harry’s back. 

“He's breathing.” Sirius couldn’t believe it. He put his other hand on Eliot; the rise and fall of their chests made him feel like he could breathe himself. “They’re alive. How are they alive?” 

“I'm not sure ter be honest,” Hagrid admitted. “Yeh'll wan' ter be asking Dumbledore about tha'. It took me ages ter get 'em ter sleep, though. Poor little tykes.”

They were only sleeping. If that wasn’t the most fantastic word in the English language, Sirius didn’t know what was. He stepped to the side and arched his neck to try and see them better. Eliot was facing the great mass of hair on Hagrid’s head, but Harry wasn’t. 

“What is that there?” Sirius pointed at Harry’s forehead, the scar on it looked inflamed and painful. “How did he get that? What the fuck happened here, Hagrid?"

When Hagrid didn’t respond right away, he grew impatient.

“Hagrid, please!” Sirius begged. 

Hagrid nodded his head and took a moment to compose himself before he began. “Lily musta put 'em in the same crib an'... an' used her body as a shield.” He choked up, dark eyes welling with tears. “Harry was trying ter reach her through the bars when I got here. Blood was running his little face. Eliot was jus’ screaming away behind 'im. I don' know how Harry survived, but it saved Eliot’s life.” The half-giant was barely holding back his sobs now. “Musta bin so terrifying fer 'em.”

A scene played out in Sirius’s head, with the little ones in the crib and Lily holding Voldemort off as long as she could. It was awful. 

Sirius's eyes burned, and he cleared his throat. “Give them to me. I’m their godfather. I’ll take care of them.” 

He didn’t know what higher power let Harry and Eliot survive or what happened to Voldemort. What he _did_ know was that he wouldn’t let anything else happen to them; they were all he had left of his best mate. 

Hagrid shook his head, not loosening his hold on them. “I have ter take 'em ter their aunt, Dumbledore's orders. He said Harry'd be safest there an' he didn' wan' ter separate 'em. He’s a good man, Dumbledore. He'll make sure they're all righ'.” 

Their _aunt_? Sirius was horrified. That trollop hated Lily! What was Dumbledore thinking? 

“I’ll be there to pick them up soon.” His tone made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate any arguments. He wasn’t leaving his godchildren with that horrid woman; it was HIS job to take care of them now. “Take my bike. I’ll see them in a little while.” 

“Yer bike?” Hagrid looked between Sirius’ face and the motorbike in the yard with reluctance. 

“Yes.” Sirius insisted. “I have a sidecar that I can attach. It’ll be safe for them. I just need to add some charms to it before you leave.”

Rage was quickly replacing his grief. It tasted bitter but far more satisfying. It was an emotion he was more equipped to deal with; Peter wasn’t going to get away with this. Sirius was going to _kill_ him for what he’s done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ' _italics_ ' = auditory hallucination

Sirius held on to the belief he was going to get a trial for a naïvely long amount of time. Dumbledore was Chief Warlock, and Sirius thought even if the entire Council of Magical Law were a bunch of arseholes, surely _Dumbledore_ wouldn’t leave him here.

He was wrong. 

Peter Pettigrew tricked them all. The boy who cried every night for two months when they started school, the boy who mastered every spell last, that was the person who got the Potter’s killed along with a street full of muggles. How did he even manage to cast a curse that strong? Sirius wouldn’t have seen it coming in a million years. So here he lay, rotting in the cell meant for Wormtail.

Abandoned.

Forgotten. 

Alone.

Of _course,_ they believed the worst in Sirius so quickly. He was a Black, after all, that’s all anyone ever saw. No matter the fact that he was disowned at 16 and loved a werewolf more than his own life. He _had_ to be an insane bigot itching to kill and torture. A Black couldn’t possibly be anything else. 

The mixture of resentment, betrayal, and aguish was too complicated for his canine animagus form to comprehend; all he could handle was the hurt. It made things simpler. He was large, 6 feet from nose to tail and over 14 stone when healthy, with thick double-coated fur that kept him warm in the harsh chill of Azkaban prison. Unfortunately, food and water were scarce in this place, which made him rapidly lose weight. They only gave the prisoners enough to keep them alive, not a drop or crumb more. 

At first, Padfoot was hungry, bitterly so. Then after a while, the hunger went away, he felt weak, he still wanted food, but the hunger pangs weren't there. When his fat stores were exhausted, the hunger returned with a vengeance. It was the most terrible pain. That’s when Padfoot started looking more skeletal with each passing day, although he didn’t have any concept of such things anymore. 

Stone walls surrounded him in a windowless cell, so small Padfoot’s massive frame could hardly turn around in it. All it had was a deep hole in the corner for him to use as a loo. His canine nose could detect the putrid smells of Azkaban more keenly than when he was human. The stench of rot was heavy in the air, and he could almost _taste_ the terror and madness on his tongue from the other prisoners.

Dementors swarmed the corridors and fed on any positive emotion the prisoners possessed, leaving only misery in their wake. Their bodies were greyed and decayed looking as if they were decomposing corpses in horrid cloaks. They inhaled with deep, rattling, greedy breaths. 

Being able to shift into Padfoot helped with the effects those creatures had, but it didn’t make him immune to them. A feeling akin to depression weighed on him, making him feel worthless. He tried to hold on to the fact that he was innocent. He wasn’t the Potter’s Secret-Keeper and he _didn’t_ kill those muggles. Azkaban took almost everything away from him, but it couldn’t take that.

There was nothing in his cell but his heartbeat and rancid breath. At times he scratched at the bars just to hear something different. He’d idly muse on how big the gap is between each one, bigger than anyone would think, not that he could fit through it even with the weight he’s lost thus far. The futility of it all would hit him, then, and the dog would cast his sad eyes away and tuck his face under his paw with a low whimper. 

His worst memories rose easily to the forefront of his brain, while his happier ones got harder and harder to grasp. 

* * *

Walburga Black stood towering over a young child of 5, disgust and disapproval on her face. “What. Do. You. Think. Are. You. Doing?”

Sirius averted his gaze guiltily. He hated making his mother look at him that way. He tried so hard to please her. “Looking out of the window.” His voice came out small, ashamed, and barely over a whisper.

“Why?” She looked down her nose at her oldest son. “What did I say about these windows?”

Regulus Black, two years old, peeked his little head around the corner to stare at the pair with wide grey eyes. His fingers gripped the doorway tightly.

Sirius couldn’t bring himself to look at either one. “We’re never to look out of them or use the front door.” 

“Why did I say that?” The fire in Walburga’s eyes grew as she waited for him to confess. Sirius didn’t reply, and her voice rose to a shrill scream, “ANSWER ME!”

The boy flinched, “The… The filthy muggles are out there. As members of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, we are above them and should never soil ourselves with their presence.” He’s heard enough about muggle to know those words by heart, along with many others like them about people and creatures his mother considered to be below them. 

Sirius just wanted to see what they were like! They live surrounded by them, but he’s never seen a muggle before. He wanted to know what made them so “filthy” and “inferior.” He imagined the magicless things didn’t bathe and walked around with a dead, stupid look in their eyes. Surely, they must need help with the simplest of tasks. An image of twisted, ugly faces covered in mud and drool dripping down their chins filled his brain. He HAD to see one!

The funny thing was they weren’t filthy at all! Muggles looked like ordinary people, going about their day like anyone else, even if they dressed oddly. It was baffling to Sirius.

“That is exactly right.” Walburga nodded. She pressed her lips into a stern line, and her left wrist twitched. Sirius saw it out of the corner of his eye. He knew that was her wand hand, and it made his stomach drop. “I do not like to be ignored. You best have a phenomenal reason for disobeying.” Sirius’s lips trembled, and his mother’s wand slid out of her sleeve into her hand. “Well? Do not leave me in suspense, child.”

* * *

Padfoot jerked and tried to think of something else, only for other unpleasant memories to fill his head. 

* * *

Despite his bravado on the train with James, Sirius was terrified when he got sorted into Gryffindor. His parents were going to be furious.

**.**

**.**

Sirius’s heart broke when he lost his brother. First, mentally and emotionally, as Regulus slowly became someone Sirius didn’t recognize when he started school. Then for good when he was declared dead at 18. There was no body, no funeral, he was just gone. 

**.**

**.**

Remus first rejected him in 6th year. Sirius was in love with him the year before but didn’t dare put himself out there. However, one night after he got plastered on stolen Firewhisky, he kissed Remus. His heart soared when Remus kissed back. Sirius wondered why he put this off for so long. Remus’ hands wandered over Sirius’ body as he gripped his light brown hair and firm arse in return.

It was better than he imagined it would be. 

The moment shattered when Remus shoved Sirius away, horror in his amber eyes. Sirius remembered asking what was wrong, begging Moony to come back when the other boy bolted, but all that happened was the intoxicated teenager crying into his pillow. A thing Sirius would deny ever happened.

It took a week for Remus to stop avoiding being alone with Sirius. He made sure to tell his mate that it was a mistake. It didn’t happen as far as Remus was concerned, and it never would. No argument Sirius made changed his mind.

Full of rejection and anger, he did what he did best, Sirius lashed out. It nearly cost him everything. It didn’t matter that Snivellus provoked him, practically begged for it to happen with his threats toward Moony, Sirius almost caused Remus to kill him that full moon night. The werewolf could’ve been put to death and it would’ve been all his fault.

It took months for his mates to speak to him and even longer to be forgiven.

* * *

Sirius jerked awake with a pained moan and clutched his matted hair in his fists. “No, no, no.” 

He accidentally shifted into his human form in his sleep, and the frigid temperature shocked his system. A Dementor outside his cell took full advantage of his moment of weakness and fed greedily. It took a while for him to have the presence of mind to shift back into Padfoot. Having thick fur again was a relief. On top of that, the change caused the Dementor to lose interest. 

_Bleeding fucking hell_ , Padfoot swore internally. He shook his fur and dug his claws into the stone beneath him. Something amazing happened when he did; the stone gave way as easily as if he were digging in the dirt. The dog perked up and, with an excited noise, tore into the floor with vigor. Stone flew all around him as the hole got deeper. Adrenaline surged inside of him, and for the first time in he didn’t know how long he felt motivated. He felt ALIVE. Padfoot dug until his body couldn’t take anymore, and he passed out.

Every muscle in his body screamed when he sluggishly regained consciousness. As soon as he remembered what caused his body to be so sore, his eyes shot open eagerly… only to see nothing.

What?

No, no, that’s not possible!

Padfoot weakly tapped the stone floor with one paw. He dug a hole! He knows he did! What happened to it? Was it enchanted? Did it fix itself while he was unconscious? The dog tilted his head back and howled.

* * *

Sirius and his mother got into one last fight when he was 16 years old. Walburga disapproved of his friends, the muggle clothes he wore around the house to antagonize her, and the pornographic muggle posters he stuck to his wall. He spent years after getting sorted into Gryffindor picking fights with her when he was home over the summer, and she’s finally had enough. Nothing she did curbed her eldest son’s rebellious streak.

“You WILL start acting like a proper heir, you ungrateful swine!” Walburga screeched, whipping her wand through the air in a clear threat. “I’ve had enough of your distasteful behavior! If you do not put an end to it at once, I WILL disown you! You will be poverty-stricken and destitute! You have no valuable skills, Sirius Orion! Do you honestly think you would be better off alone? Do you think you can succeed without this family? YOU CANNOT!”

“Everyone would be off better without this incest pool of a family!” Sirius screamed back; blood roared in his ears. “Disown me! I dare you, you old hag! I’d love it!”

“Crucio!” Walburga hissed, red light shot from her wand toward her son’s chest.

White-hot pain seared through Sirius’s entire body. Without intending to, he let out a wail and curled into the fetal position. When his mother stopped the curse a few seconds later, he still twitched with aftershocks and tears stained his cheeks _._

* * *

“Is that him?” A hushed voice outside his cell caused Sirius to bolt upright. His head swam with the movement. 

“That’s him.” A second voice confirmed.

People! He can’t remember how long it’s been since he saw another living being. Food and water appeared sporadically without warning; they weren’t given to him by guards. 

Sirius raised his hand to shield his eyes, the light from their wands blinded him. “Who are you?” His voice was rough with disuse. It hurt his throat to speak.

He was relieved they didn’t come across him while he was Padfoot. It’s the first sign of luck he’s had in ages. If they knew he was an animagus, they’d put him in a cell that suppressed his ability to transform, which was the last thing he needed. Azkaban was torture enough as it was.

“Look at him,” The first voice said with relish as if Sirius never spoke. “He looks awful, doesn’t he?”

“That lunatic deserves every bit of it.” The second guard agreed spitefully. 

“They all do if you ask me.”

Light retreated as the pair walked away, the sound of their footsteps echoed down the corridor. Sirius blinked rapidly until his eyes adjusted once more. Desperation seized him, and he lunged for the bars. He didn’t care that they were mocking him, Sirius was so tired of being alone. Conversation, even if taunting were all it consisted of, would be better than nothing at all. 

“Come back!” Sirius tried to shout, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate. He gripped the bars tightly in his skeletal fingers. If he weren’t so dehydrated, he would’ve cried.

Other prisoners were sticking their hands through their bars as well. One of them, whoever they were, let out a mad laugh as a guard stomped on their fingers, no doubt breaking them. Sirius retreated into the corner upon seeing it. He craved interaction, sure, but not at the expense of broken bones he wouldn’t be able to fix. There was enough pain here. That being said, his heart still gave a mournful lurch at the loss of human contact. 

As the guards got further away, the Dementors returned, and Sirius shifted into Padfoot to avoid getting hit with the full effect of their presence. 

‘ _You deserve this_ ,’ a voice said harshly. Was it in Padfoot’s head? He couldn’t tell. It did sound suspiciously like James. ‘ _It’s your fault all of it happened! You were going to outsmart the world, huh? Where did that get you?_ ’

It was true. James and Lily would still be alive if it weren’t for Padfoot. He was too blind to see what was right in front of him. Maybe if he hadn’t been full of himself and his _cleverness_ , they’d be alive today. Harry and Eliot won’t even remember them and how thrilled they were with being parents, or the time Harry pissed on James’s face when he was changing the nappy, making the grown man squeal like a little girl. Or how everyone fought over what Harry’s first word would be. There were bets on it, just like there were with Eliot. 

Padfoot wouldn’t get to hear Eliot’s first word or see him take his first steps. What would he be like? The last time Padfoot saw him, his eyes were shifting away from the dark blue a lot of newborns had, what color will they turn out to be? What was Harry going to be like as he grew up? Would his godchildren like sports? Music? Pranks? Dancing? Reading? Would they be studious? Introverts or extraverts? What subjects in school are they going to excel in? Who will their friends be?

Padfoot was going to miss it all. He should’ve insisted on taking them instead of focusing on revenge.

‘ _They’re going to grow up thinking it was YOU who betrayed their parents,_ ’ the voice added viciously. ‘ _You’ll spend the rest of your life missing them, loving them, and they are going to want you dead._ ’

Padfoot whimpered and curled into a tighter ball.

* * *

A wail pierced through the walls, startling a curse out of Sirius. It was hard to believe a sound like that could come out of something so small. Harry’s screams grew louder as he rushed to check on what was wrong. When he reached the nursery, he quickly lifted his godson out of his crib. It didn’t help.

Terror gripped Sirius’s heart as he bounced the baby in his arms. “What’s wrong? Are you hungry? Do you want your parents? They’ll be back soon, mate. I swear.”

Harry continued to cry. 

“Shite.” Sirius checked his nappy, and that wasn’t the problem. He summoned a bottle of breast milk Lily left, just in case, but Harry wouldn’t eat. “What’s wrong?”

Unsurprisingly, the four-month-old didn’t give any other answer except continuing to cry.

“They didn’t go far!” Sirius promised, hysteria in his voice. Prongs and Lily only left an hour ago; he couldn’t possibly have buggered this up already. “They’re safe and sound, yeah?”

Harry wasn’t impressed with his godfather’s words. It took nearly half an hour for him to calm down, and Sirius still had no idea what upset him.

“Thank, Merlin.” He sighed with relief, placing a kiss on the baby’s head. “Were you just lonely in here, Prongslet?” He sat in the rocking chair and spoke softly, “I’ll stay, all right? There’s no need to be afraid. Uncle Padfoot is here.”

It was amazing, the power babies had without even knowing it, and how quickly he fell in love with his godson. He wasn’t sure how good he’d be at this at first, but the day Harry was born was one of the best days of his life.

* * *

That memory was a kick in the bollocks as the loss hit him all over again. Even the good things he was able to recall seemed to cause him pain. 

I’m so sorry. Padfoot thought it over and over again. He pictured his godsons in his head and repeatedly apologized to them with all his heart.

I’m sorry I failed you. 

‘ _I should never have made you the godfather to my children,_ ’ the voice was undeniably James now. ‘ _Peter would’ve been better, and he was a cowardly piece of griffin dung.’_ Padfoot’s temper rose at those words, but James quickly doused it. ‘ _How does it feel knowing that a traitorous murderer would make a better godfather than you? It’s no wonder Moony always rejected your sorry arse. You’re not worthy to lick the ground he walks on, and you thought he’d love you?_ ’

‘Please stop,’ Padfoot begged. ‘I can’t take hearing you say that. Not you.’

James laughed harshly. ‘ _Stop? I think not. You were supposed to be my best mate, MY BROTHER, but you got me killed! Why Padfoot? Why would you do that to me? I told you I wanted you instead of Wormtail, and you didn’t listen. If you had listened to me instead of your ego, I’d get to see my children grow up._ ’

‘I’m sorry,’ the dog whimpered.

‘ _A fat lot of good sorry does me.’_

What could Padfoot possibly say to that? James was right. Padfoot was a bad dog; he failed his people and deserved to be here. 


	3. Chapter 3

Padfoot knew he was hallucinating, although he admitted, sometimes, he did get swept up in them. He was embarrassed the first time he realized it — when he smelt a full English breakfast: fried eggs, sausages, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread, and a slice of black pudding. He couldn’t resist its allure. Padfoot salivated, his stomach screamed out in longing, and he lunged at the bars with too much force and not enough coordination. He broke his front leg, which should’ve stopped him, but the dog was too far gone to snap out of it. What were a few injuries, when such delicious food awaited him? 

So, on top of being starved nearly to death, dehydrated, and filthy, now he could barely move without being in agony. His body struggled to recover, to repair the damage when he was already in such poor health. 

To punish him for being such a halfwit, the universe, and whatever higher power presided over it, decided that would be the last pleasant hallucination he had. No more smells of delicious breakfasts, sounds of running water, or the roof dissolving to give him a lovely view of the night sky; instead, he saw horrid things out of the corner of his eyes and heard voices, predominantly the Potters. No matter which voice it was he heard at any given moment, they always made Padfoot feel wretched. 

He couldn’t tell you if it’s been months, years, or even decades since he was locked away. Guards come irregularly, and it’s never the same ones. There’s no way to tell how much time is passing. Padfoot spends so much of it lost in memories and hallucinations, it’s a miracle he can still be lucid at all.

‘ _Padfoot!’_ James sounded urgent. It was odd. Usually, he jumped right into explaining all the ways he was a waste of air. ‘ _Padfoot, it’s past time you put an end to this rubbish!’_

‘What?’ the dog thought in reply, even though he knew he shouldn’t entertain his madness. 

James’s voice grew even more panicked. ‘ _Where are my children?’_

Padfoot’s hackles rose. ‘What?’

‘ _Are you deaf as well as mental?’_ James snapped. ‘ _My children, you tosser! You know the Ministry won’t let Moony have them, so, where are they?’_

He racked his brain. Where were Harry and Eliot? He knew, did he? It took a while for him to recall what Hagrid said that night, ‘They were _…_ going to their aunt? I think.’ 

_‘I hope you mean Lily has a long-lost sister I don’t know about.’_ James scolded. ‘ _You can’t mean Petunia! The Padfoot I know wouldn’t leave them with a person like that.’_

‘It’s not like I’m on vacation here!’ the dog growled. ‘Does it look like I have a choice in the matter?’ 

‘ _Are you a Marauder, or aren’t you?’_ James demanded incredulously. ‘ _Find a way out and get my children! They’ve been through enough; they don’t deserve abandonment on top of it all!’_

Padfoot balked, ‘I did NOT abandon them!’

He loved his godchildren! He would never leave them like this if he had the choice!

‘ _This is YOUR fault!’_ His best mate shouted. It made Padfoot wince. ‘ _The least you can do is try and make it right! I will not take no for an answer! Go, Padfoot! Get out of here! They need you!’_

They needed him. Those words sparked life into Padfoot, and he got up on weak, unsteady legs. Pain shot through him, causing him to collapse with a yelp. It took a few tries for him to remain standing.

‘I can’t fit!’ he thought desperately to James, as he stared at the bars blocking his exit.

James snorted, ‘ _Don’t you realize you’re nothing but bones now?_ ’ He sounded amused. ‘ _Of course, you can fit._ ’

The dog inched his way forward cautiously, each footfall was painful, but he paid it no mind. A dementor’s cloak brushed his head when it was out. Padfoot whined, a shudder went through his body. Black ears flattened to his skull, and his tail tucked between his bony legs. Despite his fear, he wiggled the rest of the way into the corridor. It was amazing how much space was between each of the bars; if it weren’t for the dementors, prisoners escaping would be a much bigger problem.

‘ _Foo_!’ A baby’s voice called out in fright. He’d know it anywhere. 

Even as he told himself it wasn’t real, Padfoot’s head whipped around in every direction, looking for the source the sound. 

‘ _Foo_!’ Harry screamed. 

Padfoot hobbled weakly in the direction he thought it was coming from, Harry’s voice continued to cry out as he made his way through the labyrinth of hallways. It was what kept him from lying down and giving up. Dementors swarmed everywhere he went, brushing his body from all sides. There must be hundreds on this island, if not thousands. 

He came across a stone staircase. It was narrow and crumbling. He had no intention of going down it until the sound of guards coming in his direction stole the choice from him. He bloody well hoped they weren’t going past his cell on their route.

If Padfoot thought it was painful before, that was nothing compared to how difficult it was to make his way down those cramped stone steps. His legs shook with exertion, and he was only distantly aware of the fact that he was whimpering. When he reached the bottom, his body gave out. It couldn’t take anymore. After an unknown amount of time, he startled awake and continued his escape.

He passed out a few more times on his journey until he finally found his way outside. The fortress towered above him, a castle built on blood and bones. The walls whispered to him, telling tales of torture and death, starting with the unsuspecting muggles sailors who were lured here when it was first built. He wondered if it was another hallucination, or if the souls of those who died in this place became embedded in the stone, forced to remain for all eternity— never getting peace. 

Even with the depressing landscape, fresh air was something he missed dreadfully. He blocked out the whispers and inhaled deeply through his nose. A cool breeze wafted over the waves, bringing the taste of the ocean with it.

‘ _What are you waiting for?’_ Lily’s tone had a hard, sarcastic edge to it. ‘ _A portkey to fall conveniently in front of your face? Maybe you want to take your chances at getting a guard’s wand? No? I thought not. Stop stalling.’_

‘Surely you don’t mean I should swim!’ Padfoot protested, shuffling back. ‘I barely made it down the stairs! I’ll drown!’ 

‘ _Then drown_.’

Padfoot kept close to the castle wall as he pressed on, keeping an eye out for anything that would be useful. Swimming would be suicide. He was going to find another way; the voices in his head be damned. At first, all he saw were endless graves and the branches of dead trees rustling in the wind. However, on the opposite side of the island, there was another building. It crouched low to the yellowed grass with a misshapen slate roof and unevenly sized stones that made up the walls. 

He transformed when he got close and went inside quickly as not to attract attention from the dementors. Sirius’s eyes were sunken, his skin sallow, everything ached, and in the warmth of the room he still shivered with chills. The Azkaban prison uniform he wore hung off of his gaunt frame. 

There were only two rooms, neither of which were occupied at the moment. The first was some sort of breakroom, with plenty of places to sit comfortably, while the other was for business. The office was in a state of half organized clutter. It had a mahogany desk with three drawers that sat on the right-hand side covered in parchment and random nonsense, a floor to ceiling bookshelf with books leaning against one another different directions, and two walls that consisted of nothing but filing cabinets.

Plain black robes were thrown over a chair, and he put them on over his filthy clothes, lifting the hood over his head. He riffled through the pockets, but nothing of use was inside. The drawers and filing cabinets were all warded shut. He thought of Lily’s earlier words and wished a portkey or wand _was_ lying conveniently around somewhere for him to use. No such luck.

“Bollocks,” Sirius swore in a raspy voice, he was hoping to catch a break. There wasn’t even food or water lying around for him to take. Coming here was an enormous waste of time. 

‘ _Are you ready to listen to me now?’_

No, he wasn’t. There had to be another way off this hellhole that didn’t involve drowning.

‘ _Apparition, portkey, or swimming, those are your choices_.’

“Those choices are shite,” Sirius muttered irately.

‘ _Your life is shite, get over it.’_

Either he was going to die trying to swim to safety or wait around for a miracle. Sirius decided he’d rather drown than go back to that cell, so outside as Padfoot he went.

The second his paw touched the freezing water, he nearly second-guessed that decision. He had to force himself to keep going until he couldn’t feel the ground under him anymore. His limbs moved in a quick, peddling motion, and icy water was thrust up his nostrils. Each time the waves pulled him underneath the water, the chances to breathe became further apart. With an extraordinary amount of effort, he broke the surface once more, gulping at the air, panic had his heart hammering against his ribs. Padfoot’s head pounded, every cell in his canine body screamed for oxygen. He kept fighting until he felt like his head was about to explode. After a long while of this struggle, everything slowly faded away.

* * *

“How is that thing still alive?” A feminine voice asked. 

“ _That thing_ is a puppy,” a second one scolded, “and he’s alive because I’ve been taking care of him!” 

“A puppy!” She sounded afraid. “What have you been smoking, Aoife? It’s massive and half _dead_! Take it to the vet and let them put it out of its misery!”

Aoife’s voice cut through the air like a whip, “I will do no such thing! It was a miracle I found this poor baby while I was out sailing! God put him in my path so I could help him, and that’s exactly what I plan to do!” 

The first woman groaned. “No more of your religious nonsense! It wasn’t God! It was just a freak accident! Let the thing die.”

“Don’t belittle my faith!” Aoife hissed. “I bathed him, groomed him, and have been feeding him baby food through a syringe for a week! He’s not a thing, and I won’t be giving up on him! Who knows what he’s been through? He deserves a chance to live!”

“Whatever. Call me when it's gone.” 

Padfoot heard footsteps and a door slamming. Where was he and how did he get here? 

“Heartless twat.” Aoife huffed from above him. He felt her hands run through his fur gently. A shiver of delight went through his body. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, sweet boy, no matter what she says. I swear.”

Was he dead? Padfoot wondered. It didn’t feel like it, which made as much sense as the conversation he just overheard. That is to say, none at all. When he tried to move, pain shot through him. The dog yelped and struggled, kicking his legs and wiggling his body. 

“You’re awake!” Aoife exclaimed happily; one hand pressed gently on his side while the other scratched behind his ear. When was the last time he felt something so fantastic? Her touch soothed his panic, and warmth spread through his body.

Padfoot blinked slowly, and his surrounding swam into focus. He was lying on a blanket in this “Aoife’s” living room. The colors he was able to perceive were limited in this form, so he wasn’t sure if it genuinely was a mixture of yellow, brown, and grey in here. Was that a blue painting on the wall? 

He _did_ know that he was in a muggle household. He could tell by the nonmoving pictures on the mantel to his left and the thing on the table. What did Lily call it? Telewave? Telemision? Padfoot didn’t know. As amazing as muggle “electicity” was, he was terrible at remembering the names of all the inventions they’ve come up with over the years.

“Hey, puppy,” Aoife cooed, drawing his attention to her face. “How about we eat something, hmm? Are you hungry?” 

His stomach rumbled, answering her question. She laughed gently and pressed an odd-looking thing against his mouth. He wasn’t sure what it was, so he clenched his jaw tightly.

“None of that,” she chuckled and scratched behind his ear again, causing him to relax without meaning to. It was a good thing he did because whatever was in that tasted brilliant. He wagged his tail weakly and lapped at the mushy food. “There’s a good boy.” 

Padfoot was never telling a soul how those words made him feel. _Good boy,_ he thought with an embarrassing amount of pleasure. His tail wagged harder, hitting the floor repeatedly with loud thumping sounds. 

The next week and a half he spent healing at Aoife’s was amazing. He slept often but restlessly, ate the mushy food she gave him, and didn’t stop trying to walk until he succeeded. As much as he enjoyed this vacation from reality, he couldn’t stay any longer. Padfoot was able to learn the date and keep track of it. Today was July 15th, 1988. His godsons were seven years old; Harry will be 8 in nearly two weeks. He had to get to them. He missed too much of their lives already.

Padfoot slipped out of the house when Aoife left for work. He made a promise to himself that he was going to repay her for her kindness someday. Heat licked at his face and coiled around his limbs as he padded down the cobblestone walkway. After spending so long trapped in the cold, there was nothing better than being able to walk in the sun. As soon as he can get his godchildren somewhere safe, it’ll be damn near perfect.

‘ _What else do you want?’_ An unidentifiable voice jeered. It sounded as if it were coming from behind him, but he knew if he looked, nothing would be there. ‘ _Moony, perhaps? Will you raise the kids together and live happily ever after?’_

Bugger. Padfoot thought he left those annoying bastards in Azkaban.

‘ _If he didn’t love you before, there’s no chance he will now. You’re broken and unlovable. When will you learn?’_

Padfoot ignored the voice’s mockery and trudged on with single-minded focus. He didn’t allow himself to think of anything except his godsons until he reached his destination. Harry and Eliot were with that trollop Petunia; they were more important than him and his petty problems. Who cared about his lack of a love life when they weren’t safe? He sorted his priorities and shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. 

It took him a few days to get to that ridiculous street she lived on, Privet Drive in Little Whinging. He only came here once, when Lily’s parents begged her to come to Petunia’s housewarming party. The entire evening was spent with Lily being on the end of her sister’s verbal abuse. Sirius and James came unhinged. At the behest of his then-fiancé, the latter calmed himself down. Sirius, on the other hand, nearly cursed both Petunia and her new husband into oblivion. He would have too if James hadn’t restrained him.

All of the houses on Privet Drive were identical. Seeing as he didn’t remember the exact address, he stayed on the edge of the woods as he looked carefully into each backyard. When he got to the one with two children tending to a small flower garden, he froze.

There were tall hedges on either side of the yard, stretching toward where he crouched in the neatly trimmed tree line. The doors to the shed were open, and garden supplies were strewn across their modest yard. Along the edge of the house, on either side of the back door, were hollow logs filled with a small number of different flowers and sword-shaped leaves that were in contrast with the softness of the blooms. 

Both children had a head full of thick unkempt hair and over-sized clothes that hung off their thin frames. He couldn’t discern their eye color, but the one with glasses had black hair and looked strikingly like a young James Potter. It knocked the breath out of him. 

The smaller boy grinned and knelt on the ground while his brother watched. He twisted the nozzle on a spout sticking out of the back of the house, water shot from it, and the child put his head underneath the flow. “It feels brilliant, Harry! You try!”

Padfoot’s ears pricked, and he shuffled on his paws eagerly. After all these years, he’s finally with them again. He soaked it in, committing every little detail to memory.

“I dunno, Eli.” Harry frowned, looking tempted. “Aunt Petunia won’t like it.”

“It’s hot!” Eliot complained. Water poured over the back of his head. “Come on, you try!”

The backdoor slammed open. All three of them startled, including the dog, who was too focused on his godchildren to notice her gazing out of the window. Eliot jumped to his feet and turned the water off, sopping wet and muddy, while Harry stared at his aunt in horror. They just wanted to cool off and have a little fun, but Petunia berated them fiercely for it, causing the light to leave their eyes. The children slumped under the weight of her ire.

Every instinct in Padfoot cried out for him to _protect_ , _defend_ , and _attack_. It burned inside of him as a growl ripped from his throat. All the torment he went through burst out of him in an uncontrollable urge to tear her apart. How _dare_ she treat them like their nothing more than dirt on the bottom of her shoes?! 

The dog sprinted across the yard and lunged. He barely noticed the children screaming and running into the house. His sharp teeth sunk into her leg; blood pooled into his mouth. Petunia’s pained wailing was music to his ears. She deserved it for all she put Lily and her children through. She spent years treating Lily like rubbish when all Lily wanted was to be loved by her older sister, and now that bitch dared to do the same thing to her children? 

Padfoot wouldn’t have it. He tore through the meat of her leg straight to the bone and shook his head rapidly. Petunia thrashed on the ground and tried hitting him, but it didn’t faze the dog at all. She was going to feel every bit of their pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black." XD


	4. Chapter 4

Padfoot didn’t regret tearing a chunk out of Petunia’s leg. He took great pleasure in seeing her husband rushing her into the car to take her to the hospital. Muggle medicine worked so slowly it was absurd; he hoped the healing process was painful for her. What Padfoot felt guilty about was how badly he frightened his godsons. They were staring at the woods, wide-eyed, the entire time the neighbor walked them to his house next-door. The third boy, overweight with light hair, looked as if he might be traumatized. Padfoot never wanted to scare the children, even the one that belonged to the trollop. He wished he would’ve waited until she was alone. 

Padfoot decided it would be better to wait a day or two for the excitement to die down before approaching his boys again. He still needed to check on Uncle Alphard’s place and make sure it was ready for them, anyway. He changed the wards when he graduated. Nobody, aside from himself, had access to the house now. Padfoot added the Potters, for emergencies, during the war and intended to add more as needed, but never got the chance.

The house was in southern Wales, near a hill overlooking a stunning valley. It had dozens of windows with pointed arches and a steeply pitched roof with a front-facing gable. The front porch was circular and had lovely ordinate columns. 

Padfoot forgot about the large hedge creature Uncle Alphard had, until he saw it start to move around the yard as soon as he was within the borders of the wards. The front of it looked like a spider, and it walked on the delicate tips of its eight legs while its long serpent tail slithered behind it. As creepy as it was, his uncle did do a magnificent job on the details. Everything from the creature’s jaws that had sharp edges reminiscent of fangs, to the scales on its tail, was impressively done.

It was named Kyros if he recalled correctly. Uncle Alphard adored that menacing-looking creature, and he’d rise from the grave to kill him if he so much as thought about getting rid of it. Padfoot would have to warn the boys about it before they came.

Sirius was greeted by the house-elves in the foyer when he transformed and walked inside. A candelabra lit up above him. There was a staircase diagonally to his right, made of rich dark wood with a long bench by it that had a plush burgundy cushion.

“Young Master has returned!” Nissey beamed, gazing up at him with adoring lavender eyes. Her silver tea-towel was wrapped neatly around her tiny body.

Tipkey, her mother, went straight to business and looked at Sirius with a stern expression. She was nearly as old as Kreacher, his mother’s elf, but far less hateful. “The Young Master will lie down and let Tipkey take care of him! He is very ill! What has he been doing, Tipkey wonders? Whatever it is, he will not be doing it again!”

“I sure hope not.” Sirius quirked his lips into an awkward smile, unused to the movement. It felt odd on his face. “Wrongful imprisonment wasn’t as fun as they make it out to be. No excitement at all.”

Nissey gasped in horror, and his poor attempt at a joke fell flat.

Tipkey looked furious. “How dare they treat the House of Black that way? Young Master has always been a good boy! Master Black would _not_ have put up that sort of behavior if he was still alive! No, he wouldn’t! Tipkey won’t either!”

“Thanks, Tip.” Sirius’ smile grew less strained. “Speaking of Uncle Alphard, do you still have his wand around here somewhere?” 

“Master Black asked Tipkey to make sure it stayed safe.” Tipkey nodded. “Does Young Master need it? Did the nasty Aurors snap his?” She seemed to grow angrier at the thought. 

“Nissey will get them if Young Master wishes!” Nissey offered. “The bodies will never be found.”

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. He probably shouldn’t have found her threat as funny as he did. “Thanks for the support, Nissey, maybe another time. Can you get the wand now, Tip? I’d like to have it on me.”

Tipkey disappeared with a soft _pop_ and was back before Sirius could blink. Uncle Alphard’s cedar wand had Rougarou hair for its core and was 10 inches in length. Sirius reached to wrap his fingers around it, and a rush went up his arm. He sighed in relief and tucked it into an inner pocket of the robes. It wasn’t a perfect fit, not like his original wand, but having one in his possession again felt like regaining a lost limb.

“Sit!” Tipkey pointed at Sirius with a no-nonsense look on her face. “Young Master needs to rest now!”

There was a closed-door to his right, where he knew the study was, and he could see the spacious Great Room through an open doorway to his left. It was shaped like a hexagon and had a high ceiling. When he walked in, he felt like he was transported through time—standing in this room after all these years was nostalgic. There was a single chair near the fireplace. It looked more like a throne with the back of it coming up in a carved, pointed arch and the elegant detailing engraved in the wood. Uncle Alphard was the only person allowed to sit in it when he was alive.

On either side of a couch were two loveseats with crescent backs, pleated rolled arms, and tall solid wood stained legs facing each other in the center of the room. If Uncle Alphard ever had a group of people over, Sirius imagined they sat there, drinking and talking shite. There was a bookshelf embedded in the wall; it had a backless sofa off to the side of it. Glass chess pieces sat on their board on a table against the opposite wall. Sirius never won a single game when his uncle played with him.

“You still have access to the account, don’t you, Tip?” Sirius asked as he sank into a loveseat. He looked out of place in his filthy prison uniform and stolen black robes. 

“Yes,” Tipkey confirmed. “What does Tipkey need to buy?”

“I need two rooms set up for my godsons, Harry and Eliot. They’re seven years old.” Sirius rested his head back. “Preferably beside each other. They’ll be staying with us as soon as I can get them here safely. I want their names on a plaque on their doors and a few toys in each room.” He remembered their oversized clothes and added, “We need a wardrobe for them too. I don’t know what size they wear, but that’s not a problem. Clothes can be adjusted.”

“Young Master needs new clothes as well,” Nissey said, her tone made the words sound like a suggestion instead of a demand.

Sirius's eyes grew heavy, and he let out a yawn. He didn’t realize how tired he was until he stopped moving. “I need something for my hair and teeth. I want to be as presentable as I can when they see me properly for the first time.”

“Nissey and Tipkey will take care of it.” The older elf reassured.

He felt a cold blackness come over him as he fell asleep. Sirius won’t remember most of his dream, but he will recall being trapped alone in a tight space with a feeling of terror overtaking him. He shot to his feet hours later, barely conscious. His wand was in his hand within a second. Y _ou’re not safe,_ his instincts screamed. A spell shot from his wand and blew a hole through the wall. It was the sound that finally woke him.

Sirius, in his panic and confusion, nearly cast another spell. Tipkey intervened before he could.

“Young Master is safe.” She promised, her hands held in a placatory gesture. “It was only a dream.”

Sirius blinked and lowered his trembling arm. “A dream?”

“A dream,” Tipkey confirmed, her ears flapped with her nod. “Young Master is safe here. The nasty Aurors won’t get him, Tipkey won’t let them.”

“The wall,” Sirius croaked, taking in the damage with horror. “Did I do that?”

“Walls can be fixed.” Tipkey snapped her fingers, and it was repaired. “Maybe the Young Master would like a shower? We got the potions for his hair and teeth. Nissey is getting the bedrooms ready for the little ones.”

All of the bedrooms were on the second floor, each with a bathroom. There was only a half-bath on this floor. 

Sirius’s legs gave out, and he collapsed back on the loveseat. His hands were still trembling. “I don’t think I can walk up the stairs at the moment.” And apparating was not a good idea; he’d leave a vital organ behind in the state he was in.

The fright lingered from his dream, and he could feel the weight of it crushing his ribs, leaving him short of breath. 

“I can still feel them,” Sirius’s gaze flickered around the room as he wrapped himself in a hug in an attempt to get some sort of comfort and stability. The wand was still held in a firm grip in his left hand.

Tipkey tilted her head. “Who?”

“The _dementors_.” He hissed, eyeing the shadows distrustfully. “It’s like a black hole opens inside of you, swallowing all your hopes and dreams. It leaves you empty inside; you feel like your entire life was a waste of time, and they’re _here_ Tip. I know they are. I _feel_ them.” 

“Tipkey will run the Young Master a bath.” Tipkey held out her tiny hand for him to take. She didn’t comment on his words in any other way, although she did have a pityingly look on her face.

“Yeah, all right,” Sirius grumbled, taking her hand in his. It was fragile in his grip; he was careful to keep his hold gentle.

They were in the master bathroom between one blink and the next. It had an oversized standalone tub, which sat adjacent to a terrace. The shower was separate with beautiful tile flooring and a dark bench. 

“Tipkey will leave the clothes and potions in here,” She said as the tub filled itself with warm water. He grunted in acknowledgment, and she was gone.

Sirius shed his clothes and glared at them. “I’m burning you.”

It was pathetic that he feared he’d hear the fabric respond to him. Thank Merlin, it didn’t happen. He’s had enough hallucinations to last a lifetime.

Tipkey left three potions on the counter: one for hair loss, another to regrow it, and the last one was for his teeth. Sirius grimaced and tugged at the clumps on his head. He supposed she had a point, better start from scratch. There wasn’t any saving it. He poured a generous amount of the first potion in his hands and lathered it in his beard and atop his head. Black hair rained onto the gleaming bathroom floor, and his face emerged from behind the thick, coarse beard. It was excessively thin and angular. His skin stretched tightly over his cheekbones, and his cheeks were sunken. 

Sirius looked down and crinkled his nose at his protruding ribs. His pubic hair was overgrown and disgusting as well. It’s not like anyone was going to be looking at his cock, but in for a Knut, in for a Galleon. He might as well get rid of it too and let it grow back out naturally.

He got into the tub, bare as a babe, and slid under the water, letting it block everything else out.

* * *

Sirius wore a simple pair of trousers and an Atomic Rooster t-shirt, a muggle rock-band Lily introduced him to. She thought he’d like them and was right. Muggles had a delightfully wide variety of music. Tipkey left him a set of casual robes when he got out, but he requested this instead. He had no idea how she managed to get muggle clothes and didn’t ask. His black hair was shoulder-length now, and his face smooth. He’s going to let his facial hair regrow without the aid of a potion.

He stopped outside of a room with a plaque on the door that read “Eliot.” Curious to see how it was coming along, he went inside. The walls were cobalt blue, and the Swedish Short-Snout Dragon painted onto the left wall perked up at Sirius’s entrance. It stretched its silvery-blue wings and tilted its head curiously.

“Way to go, Nissey.” Sirius looked at it, impressed. Hopefully, Eliot approved. 

He wondered what animal Harry had, so he went to the next room to see. His walls were grey to draw attention to the colorful Occamy — a plumed, serpentine-bodied creature with wings — curled up on the wall. It had a turquoise body with teal and purple feathers.

Sirius was itching to see his boys, so he had a bowl of soup before heading to Privet Drive. He meant to stay away longer, to make sure he didn’t frighten them again, but couldn’t wait another day. It was nearing noon when he got back to his spot, crouched in the tree line. His godsons were outside; this time, they were sitting on the ground, leaning against the shed.

“What about dolphins?” Eliot was asking.

Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully and replied, “We’d eat fish and play in the ocean all day, I guess, surrounded by other dolphins. They protect people, you know.”

“Do they?” Eliot’s eyes widened in amazement.

“Absolutely!” Harry waved his hands to emphasizes his words. “I heard they even fight sharks!”

“Wow, I didn’t know they were so brave. I’d like to be a dolphin.”

Harry’s eyes went to a bird flying over their head and pointed at it. “That’s what I’d like to be. I could fly away from the Dursley’s and go wherever I want.”

“You’d have to eat _worms,_ though.” Eliot pulled a dramatically disgusted face.

Harry laughed with a shrug. “It’d be worth it.”

The younger Potter boy began crawling on the ground as if he were looking for something. He swiped at the grass and eyed it carefully as he went.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“Looking for a worm.” A teasing smirk pulled at Eliot’s lips. “You’re going to have to start getting used to them.”

“I’m not eating a _worm_.”

“You said it was worth it!”

“Only if I was a bird!” Harry protested.

Eliot grinned and continued his search. “Too late. I’m going to find one.”

“I’m not eating it.”

“Yes, you will!”

Harry shook his head, sending his wild locks whipping around. “No, I won’t. You can’t make me eat _worms_ , Eliot. I’m a person. People can’t eat worms.”

“How do you know?” Eliot shot back, “Have you ever tried?”

“Of _course_ not.” Harry’s eyes rolled behind his glasses. “People don’t eat worms. I’ll get sick.”

“Maybe you’re turning into a bird, and now you _have_ to eat them.”

“Don’t be daft.” Harry scoffed. “People can’t _really_ turn into animals!”

The animagus listening to them thought this was a hilarious conversation. They bickered for a little while more on the subject, Eliot searching for a worm and Harry refusing to eat one if he found it. The lighthearted atmosphere did wonders for soothing the lingering negativity from earlier.

He transformed, and Sirius was crouched where the dog was moments prior, nerves fluttered in his stomach. He wanted to talk to them but didn’t know what to say. A random man appearing from the woods isn’t exactly going to put them at ease. He’s a wanted man, though, and Petunia hates him, besides. This is the only way he _could_ have a conversation with his godsons.

Sirius’s eyes were drawn to Eliot’s hair. The wild locks were a rich auburn he got from his mother. Dogs couldn’t see the color red; his heart restricted at the sight of it. Harry had Lily’s bright green eyes, and Eliot’s were hazel, there was more green than brown in his irises. Which was different than James, as his were dominantly a golden brown, the green showing depended on the light and what he was wearing that day.

A lump formed in his throat. He missed Lily and James; it was hard to see their features on their children’s faces. They should be here. He’s going to bugger this parenting thing up.

“Knock it off,” Sirius hissed to himself. “They need you. Save the self-pity for later.”

Sirius braced himself and stepped forward. Harry was the first to see him and stiffened. He grabbed his brother to put himself between the younger boy and Sirius. They both looked at him warily. 

“Hello,” He said stupidly. Neither boy responded. “You don’t remember me, but, umm, I’m… I’m your godfather.”

‘ _You have all the subtlety of a raging hippogriff,’_ Lily’s voice scoffed from next to him. He ignored it.

“Our _what_?” Harry gasped; his eyes widened in astonishment. Eliot’s mouth fell open.

Sirius grimaced, “This isn’t how I planned for this to go. I know how I must look, but I just wanted to talk for a while, if that’s okay.”

There was a pregnant, awkward pause. 

“If you’re our godfather, then where have you been?” Eliot finally demanded. Harry shot him a warning look over his shoulder. _Don’t piss off the crazy person,_ it said. 

“Jumping right into it, eh?” Sirius let out a forced laugh. “Well, for the sake of honesty, I was in prison for a few years.”

They stiffened again; the wary looks were back.

“I was innocent, though!” He put his hands up hurriedly. “I’m not going to hurt either of you. I swear.”

Sirius could almost _feel_ the disbelief and scorn radiating from a nonexistent Lily. It wasn’t real, the presence he felt, but it still had a point. He was going about this all wrong.

“Can we just talk for a little while?” Sirius pleaded. “I won’t come any closer.”

A heavy silence settled over them, thicker than the uneasy tension in the air.

“I guess.” Harry decided. He kept himself in front of Eliot. “Just for a little while?”

Sirius nodded eagerly. “The second you want me gone, I’ll leave. I promise.”

“Okay.” Harry looked at Eliot, who nodded. “Stay over there, though.” It was the politest tone Sirius has ever heard when being on the receiving end of a demand.

Sirius sat down, and the boys followed suit. “I’m Sirius, but you can call me Padfoot if you like.”

“Did you know our parents?” Harry asked softly as if fearing the answer.

Sirius brightened, at least this was something he couldn’t mess up. “Your father was my best mate! He’s the one who gave me my nickname.”

The boys looked at him eagerly. It was almost sad that they dropped their guard with those words alone. Especially when they thought he was mental just seconds before, but he wasn’t going to look a gifted horse in the mouth.

“What was he like?” Eliot piped up.

Sirius launched into how they met and what James was like. The boys soaked in every word, until he got too caught up in the moment, and started describing the magic they used in their pranks with terminology the boys weren’t familiar with.

“There’s no such thing as magic.” Harry had that look on his face again, the one that questioned Sirius’s sanity. 

“Who told you that?” Sirius was taken off guard. He wasn’t expecting them not to know who they were, _what_ they were.

“Aunt Petunia.”

Sirius could feel his temper rising and struggled to contain it. “She knows damn good and well that’s not true. Petunia didn’t tell you _anything_ about your family and who they were?”

“We know they died in a car crash.” Eliot offered, trying to reassure him, but doing the opposite.

“That fu _—_ ” Sirius cut himself off and took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let his temper frighten them again.

They lived in a muggle area, but until they turned 11, any magic done will be written off as accidental. Sirius took his wand out and transformed a rock into the shape of a dog.

“She lied to you both.” He said as calmly as he was able. “I’m sorry.”

Sirius has used the phrase ‘I’m sorry,’ more times since his imprisonment than any other person uses it in a lifetime, he was sure. He never thought the words would come to him this easily.

“What in the _—_ ” Eliot gasped.

“You turned it into a _dog_!” Harry exclaimed.

Sirius levitated the stone dog over to them. Harry plucked it out of the air in disbelief.


	5. Chapter 5

Sirius tried to explain the wizarding world to them, staring with Hogwarts, but frequently stopped to answer their questions.

“We’ll go to school in a castle?” Harry asked quietly, the stone dog still in his grasp. There was something in his eyes that suggested he was testing Sirius somehow. 

Sirius grinned to encourage him. He didn’t want them scared to speak their mind and asked questions. “Yes, a bloody massive one too! With staircases that move, secret passageways, and everything. You’ll get there by train with the rest of the students when it’s time for you to start.” 

“I’ve never been on a train,” Eliot commented, picking at the grass absentmindedly. “Does it fly, since it’s a magic train?” 

“Afraid not,” Sirius replied. “There are plenty of other exciting things, though! Ghosts, for starters. There are six of them that stay at Hogwarts permanently.”

“Ghosts are real?!” Harry and Eliot both exclaimed. The latter stopped ripping up the grass in his shock.

“Of course, they are!” Sirius looked at them incredulously. What kind of question was that? “Even muggles believe in ghosts, don’t they? In the magical world, ghosts have a society amongst each other. I’ve even seen them receive letters, just as translucent as they are, although I can’t tell you how that works.”

“What’s a muggle?” Harry wondered.

“A nonmagical person.”

“How many wizards are there?” Eliot resumed his grass picking. “Are there a lot? Why don’t we ever see any?” 

“There aren’t as many wizards as muggles,” Sirius explained while he drummed his fingers against his thigh. He tended to fidget, sometimes without realizing it. “and you haven’t seen any because we keep to ourselves.”

Harry’s next question was completely random, “Do carpets fly?” 

“Never seen a flying carpet, myself, but I think they used to be popular around Persia. Illegal to have one now, though. Too many muggles saw them, you see.” 

Harry’s eyes lit up in amazement. “Do _brooms_ fly?” 

“Definitely! They’re bloody good fun, too!” Sirius’s grin stretched wider across his face, making him seem almost manic. “First-years at school are not allowed to bring their brooms. You’ll take flying lessons, but I’ll make sure you’re comfortable on a broom well before then! You’ll love it. It’s _brilliant_.”

“They have a flying broom _class_?” Eliot looked horrified at the thought. “I don’t want to learn to fly. Do we have to?” 

“You’re mental!” Harry disagreed. “I want to learn to fly.”

Eliot swatted at him. “You would, bird-boy!”

Someone banging loudly on the door interrupted them. When Sirius looked, nobody was there, but the boys knew what it meant.

Harry let out a disappointed sigh, “We have to go inside to do chores.”

“We’ll back out, though!” Eliot continued, “They like us outside as much as possible in the summer.” 

Sirius shifted, unsure what they wanted him to do. “Would you… like me to wait?”

“Will you?” Harry asked, hopefully.

The nerves that flared up, relaxed at those words. Sirius was glad he wasn’t the only one enjoying their talk. “I told you, I’m only leaving when you want me to.”

“Great!” Eliot grinned. “See you in a bit!”

They got up and brushed themselves off. Sirius shifted into his animagus form when they turned to run into the house. Padfoot was full of restless energy as soon as the door closed behind them. He started to pace in between the trees while he waited for his godsons to come back.

As time stretched on, he pawed at the ground and started looking for something to tear up to alleviate his impatience. He found a large stick, settled down, and started biting at it. Chunks of wood piled up as he gnawed. When that was gone, he looked for a second one, but another idea crossed his mind. Padfoot turned to stare at Petunia’s flower garden. 

_She takes a lot of pride in that I’ll bet,_ the dog thought as his tail began to wag, _it’d be a shame if something happened to it._

Full of mischief, Padfoot bounded eagerly over a hollow log. He reared up to place his front paws into the flower bed inside of it. Padfoot alternated between biting at the flowers and digging them up. Dirt, petals, and sharply shaped leaves went flying in all directions. Padfoot knocked over the log when it was sufficiently destroyed and went to the other one to repeat the process.

Just as he finished, and sat back to admire his work, the back door opened. Harry and Eliot froze in fear at the sight of the enormous malnourished dog. 

“Out!” Petunia’s husband boomed from inside. Padfoot couldn’t for the life of him remember his name. 

The boys reluctantly closed the door but stayed pressed against it. The dog tucked his tail between his legs and lowered himself to the ground.

“Sirius?” Harry’s voice shook, and he looked desperately to the trees.

Padfoot whimpered before his body started to shift. The boys looked at him in horror when Sirius revealed himself. 

Eliot clung to Harry’s arm. “That was _you_?”

“I want you to leave now.” Harry’s voice still shook. The fear in both of their eyes was a stab to the heart.

“Can I explain first?” Sirius begged; desperation filled him. He can’t leave like this, not when they were just starting to get along. “I’m not going to hurt you! I swear! I’d never. You have to believe me. I… I didn’t mean to scare you before.”

“You ripped a hole in Aunt Petunia’s leg!” Harry had a betrayed expression on his little face. “She had to get _stitches_!” 

Sirius assumed that was some sort of muggle medical procedure. “I won’t go near her again!” He was surprised to hear himself make that promise, even more so to find that he meant it. “I need to learn to control my temper! I know that. It’s just difficult when people I love are being mistreated, that’s all! That trollop was horrible to Lily! I couldn’t bear to see her doing the same thing to you.”

Harry eyed him distrustfully. “Lily?”

“Your mother.” The fact that he didn’t know his own mother’s name made it difficult for Sirius to keep his promise. Petunia deserved worse than a little hole in her leg. 

“She was mean to our mum?” Eliot’s voice came out small.

“Yes,” Sirius nodded hastily. “She was always making Lily cry. Your mother was a wonderful woman! She didn’t deserve the way Petunia treated her, and neither do you! I was just trying to protect you.”

Harry didn’t look impressed. “By nearly ripping her leg off?”

He’s a ballsy little kid when he’s standing up for somebody. Sirius couldn’t help but like it. Lily would be proud.

“I shouldn’t have been so violent in front of you, boys,” Sirius admitted, contrite. “I’ll never hurt you. You have to believe me on that.”

“I don’t like bullies,” Harry stated matter-of-factly. Eliot nodded in agreement. “Just because Aunt Petunia was one, doesn’t mean you get to be a bigger one.”

“That’s very mature of you, Harry,” Sirius said, searching their faces for any sign that he didn’t bugger this up completely. “I was a right little shite in school, and the war afterward made being violent necessary. It was life or death then. It’s not anymore, and I’ll work on it.”

They were silent as they contemplated their godfather’s words. The wait made him antsy. 

“Can I stay?” Sirius asked when he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

Eliot looked to Harry, which seemed to be the norm between them in critical situations. 

“Will you tell us what happened to our parents?” Harry asked uncertainly. “And that war you were talking about?”

Sirius shifted on his feet. “It’s not a pleasant story, but if you want to know, then yes. I’ll tell you.”

Eliot noticed the mess he made of the flower bed at that point and tugged on Harry’s arm. The bespectacled boy snorted at the sight of it. 

Sirius smiled sheepishly. “Sorry?” He didn’t feel it, though, and the boys looked more amused than anything.

“You’re not housetrained, are you?” Harry sassed. It sounded like forgiveness.

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh and allowed himself to relax. “Not really.” 

They settled back into the spots they were in before, by the trees, and Sirius was relieved that his temper didn’t mess this up. He liked getting to know them.

“Every so often, a dark lord rises.” Sirius started. Harry and Eliot looked at him attentively. “Grindelwald hated that we hid from muggles and wanted to rule over them instead. Albus Dumbledore was the one who put a stop to him; he’s the headmaster of Hogwarts. There was peace for a time, but then a new dark lord started to rise. He called himself Voldemort.” 

“Did he want to rule over people without magic?” Eliot asked.

“No, in some ways, he was worse than Grindelwald.” Sirius’s face was somber. “Voldemort thought anyone who wasn’t a pureblood didn’t deserve a place in society, but purebloods are a tiny portion of the wizarding world. They’re a witch or wizard without known muggles or muggle-borns on their family tree. Half-bloods and muggle-borns outnumber us by quite a bit.” The boys looked confused, so he explained further, “A half-blood can be a wide variety of things; you could have two muggle-born parents, two half-blood parents, or one of each. You can have one muggle parent and one wizard.” Sirius waved a dismissive hand through the air. “So, you can see how it’s a bit of a vague term.”

“What are we?” Harry asked.

Sirius lifted his knees and put his arms loosely around them. “Your mother was muggle-born, which means both of her parents were muggles, but your father was a pureblood. That makes you and Eliot half-bloods.”

“So, this Voldemort,” Eliot stumbled over the unfamiliar name. “Wanted to… get rid of everyone else?”

“Basically.” Sirius nodded. He was trying to give a somewhat child-friendly version of the story. “Werewolves, vampires, the whole lot.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Those are real too?” 

“Most of what muggles consider to be myths are.” Sirius chuckled. 

“Unicorns?” Eliot asked.

Sirius nodded; a fond smile pulled at his lips.

Harry lit up. “Dragons?”

“Mermaids?”

“Pixies?”

“Those blokes who are half horse?”

“What about Pegasuses?” Harry paused and crinkled his nose. “I think I said that wrong.”

“How about those things that scream really loud?” Eliot asked. “Like makes your ears bleed and stuff? I read a book at school that had one of those in it.”

“Banshees?” Harry supplied helpfully.

“Yeah!” Eliot nodded. “What about those?”

Sirius laughed at their enthusiasm. “Yes, to all of them. There are all sorts of winged horses, actually, and the plural you were looking for Harry is Pegasi.”

“Pegasi.” Harry agreed.

“That’s _wicked_!” Eliot flung his arms out. “I love being magic.”

The conversation continued to derail from there. Harry and Eliot started debating on which creature would win in a fight. “Those blokes who are half horse” versus a dragon. A mermaid against a banshee. On and on they went. Sirius was happy to just listen to them, but after a while, his stomach started to growl. He couldn’t afford to skip meals.

“Merlin’s beard,” Sirius clapped once and rubbed his hands together. His godsons looked at him in confusion. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

Eliot shrugged. “We can’t eat yet.” 

“Are you leaving?” Harry asked with a frown.

He didn’t want Sirius to leave, that was a good sign.

“I need to eat,” Sirius replied apologetically. “I’m trying to get healthy.”

Eliot gave him an understanding nod, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you _do_ look like a skeleton.” 

Sirius smirked. “I’m trying to fix that.”

“Will,” Harry stopped for a second and seemed to gather his courage to ask, “Will you come back? When you’re done eating?”

“If you’d like.” Sirius’s eyes softened; warmth spread through his body that had nothing to do with the temperature. “When I do, I wanted to talk to you both about, maybe,”

‘ _You think they’re going want to live with you_? _A mentally unstable convict?_ ’

‘ _You destroy everything you touch. It’d be better if you just left them alone_.’

‘ _You’ll hurt them like you hurt everyone you love_.’

‘ _They’ll never accept you_.’

‘ _The simple fact of the matter is, you’re not good enough, Sirius Orion._ ’

The voices surrounded him from all sides, scattering his thoughts and attacking him with his insecurities. 

“Maybe what?” Harry’s voice brought him back.

Sirius shook his head and forced himself to focus on his godsons. “Maybe coming to live with me. I know you don’t feel comfortable with that now, but _—_ ”

“Are you _kidding_?” Harry interrupted. “When can we go?”

“What?” Sirius gaped at him in astonishment. “You... really?”

Is this what emotional whiplash felt like? He wondered. They were just terrified of him earlier, weren’t they? Sirius thought he’d have to wait for them to get to know him, earn their trust.

“Yeah!” Eliot bounced on his knees in his excitement.

“Definitely!” Harry agreed, nodding vigorously.

“Right now?” Sirius stared at them uncomprehendingly. “Are you sure wouldn’t rather wait until you know me a little better?”

Eliot shook his head. “We can get to know you at your house.”

“Anywhere is better than the Dursley’s,” Harry added.

It’s so bad here that they’d be willing to run off with a stranger fresh from prison? Sirius could throttle both of those bigoted muggle arseholes.

He stood, and the boys followed his lead. “This isn’t how I pictured the day going, but okay then if you’re sure.”

“We’re sure,” said Harry. 

“Hold on to me tightly,” Sirius instructed, still reeling from the shock of this unexcepted turn of events. They obeyed. “What we’re about use is a magical form of transportation called Apparition. It’s going to feel like you’re being squeezed through a small space, and you might sick up, but that’s normal for the first time. You’ll get used it with practice.”

Sirius put all his concentration on keeping them safe and disapparated **.** They appeared on the outskirts of the wards. Harry gasped and doubled over, putting his hands on his knees. Eliot vomited on the grass.

“Are you all right?” Sirius’s hand hovered over Eliot’s back. He was unsure if the boy would welcome his touch when he wasn’t transporting them.

Harry held up a thumb. Eliot let out a pitiful moan.

“I’m never doing that again.” Eliot declared.

“Me, either.” Harry looked at his brother, and they shared a disgruntled look.

“The first time is awful, but it won’t always be so bad,” Sirius told them, feeling short of breath. He needed to sit down and get something in his stomach. “Before we go in, I wanted to let you know there’s a hedge creature my uncle made. It might look scary, but it’s not real. It can’t hurt you.”

“Hedge creature?” Harry looked around with interest.

“It’s just charmed shrubbery,” Sirius reassured and stepped into the yard.

“Woah!” Eliot pointed at Kyros, his upset stomach forgotten. “Look at that thing, Harry!”

Harry grinned. “Brilliant.”

They looked around the yard admiringly as Sirius lead them to the front door. The boys started whispering to each other, and he made a point not to listen in.

Nissey appeared in the foyer when they entered. “Young Master brought the little ones!”

The children flinched, startled.

“Harry, Eliot, I’d like you to meet Nissey. She’s one of our house elves.” Sirius gestured to her, and she waved happily.

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Umm, hello, Nissey?”

“Hello, little Harry.” Nissey beamed. “Nissey is here if you ever need anything.”

“Thanks?” Harry made it sound like a question.

Nissey turned her eager eyes to Sirius. “Their bedrooms are finished, Young Master.”

“We have bedrooms?” Eliot blurted. Harry stared up at him like this was the most fantastic news he’s ever heard.

“Of course, you do.” Sirius squinted at them both. Their reactions were suspicious. “Where else would you sleep?”

“The bedroom,” Harry answered, unconvincingly.

“We’ll circle back to this later.” Sirius frowned and looked at Nissey. “Can you get some food ready for us?”

While she was getting the food ready, Sirius walked them to the dining room. “There’s a bathroom there, Eliot.” He pointed at the door when they passed it. “You’d probably like to rinse your mouth out.”

Eliot rushed inside and screamed shortly thereafter. Harry’s eyes widen in horror, and Sirius opened the bathroom door, wand in hand. They saw the auburn-haired boy kneeling on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius demanded, looking around the small space for any sign of trouble. 

“My reflection!” Eliot cried out. “It _spoke_ to me!”

Sirius laughed and relaxed his rigid stance. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you about that.”

“That’s _normal_?” Eliot glared up at the mirror. 

“Is anything else going to talk to us?” Harry asked. “The chairs? The silverware?”

Sirius laughed again. He’s going to like having kids around. “Just my uncle’s portrait.”

“A _painting_ is going to _talk_ to me?”

“Wizards are weird.” Eliot huffed and stood to rinse his mouth.

“Oh, honey.” Eliot’s reflection said pityingly. “What are you wearing?”

Harry snorted.

Eliot gargled, spit, and ducked out of view of his reflection. “Let’s just go eat.”

“What are you wearing?” Harry whispered teasingly.

Eliot shoved him. “Shut up.”

The dining room was on the opposite end of the house, to the left. It was a grand space with a massive mahogany table. Two tall, silver candelabras commanded attention from the center of it, holding smooth white candles whose wax never dripped.

“He has to be rich.” Eliot hissed to Harry, not low enough to avoid being heard by Sirius.

“This house is mental.” Harry agreed, gazing around the room in awe. 

Sirius sat at the head of the table and watched them explore. They spent the most time looking at the gallery wall and talking in hushed tones. It had a mixture of photographs, art, and trinkets his uncle fancied.

Nothing was going right in his life; he was rotting in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, starved, and depressed. Yet here he is now, looking at his godsons admire his uncle’s house. It’s a miracle, his second chance to do things properly. He couldn’t help but feel cautiously optimistic. Sirius was going to right by them this time.


	6. Chapter 6

Tipkey ripped Sirius a new arsehole for waiting hours to come back and eat something. The boys watched the scene she made in disbelief. Sirius couldn’t tell whether or not it scared them, so, after he promised to eat more throughout the day, he assured them she was just concerned.

“Did those hurt?” Eliot asked around a mouth full of chips.

Sirius looked down at his tattooed arms and fingers. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask about them sooner. I got them the muggle way; I didn’t think it hurt that badly. I rather liked the feeling.” His pain tolerance was high, though, so his opinion on the matter was probably not the best to go on.

Harry pointed at his arm. “Is that you?” 

Sirius had a full moon on his right shoulder. A werewolf, a stag, a dog, and rat wrapped down his right arm, in that order. It looked as if they were running through a forest. Wormtail was going to have to get covered up at some point. Sirius couldn’t stand having the traitor on his arm anymore.

“Yeah, it is.” He pulled up the short-sleeve so they could see all of it. “You see that stag there? That’s your dad.” 

“Wicked,” Eliot grinned. “He could turn into an animal too?”

They both leaned forward to stare at the stag in fascination. Sirius’s tattoos were faded and have seen better days, but that’s true for the rest of him as well.

“His antlers were almost as big as his ego.” Sirius quipped; his heart gave a bittersweet throb. That was a running joke among the Marauders, not that Sirius had a right to judge anyone’s ego back in those days.

Harry and Eliot didn’t give much of a reaction to it.

“Is it okay if we see our rooms?” Eliot asked, pushing his empty plate away.

“They’re upstairs, we can apparate to get there faster,” Sirius replied with a straight face.

Harry was shaking his head before he could get all the words out. “I can walk.”

“No way.” Eliot agreed, his face scrunched up in disgust. “I’m never doing that again.”

Sirius fought to keep his amusement from showing. “Up you get, then.”

The children walked calmly behind him as they made their way upstairs. They didn’t run about, touch things that caught their eye, or anything remotely similar. He wondered if they’ll do those sorts of things when they feel more comfortable.

“Harry,” Sirius gestured to door with his plaque on it. “Yours is up first.”

Neither boy moved. 

“Harry?” Sirius inquired in concern.

Harry looked away from the plaque reluctantly. His tone was colored with disbelief. “It really is mine.”

“Yes, it is.” Sirius barely resisted the urge to run his hands through Harry’s hair affectionately. A little boy shouldn’t be that stunned to have a room. “I hope you like it.”

Harry opened the door with a trembling hand. He gazed into his new bedroom, and his green eyes seemed to take in everything and nothing at all. While Eliot, on the other hand, stared at the Occamy circling the room. He followed it from wall to wall, his mouth hanging open. Both boys stood frozen in the doorway, unable to believe what they were seeing.

“Go in,” Sirius prompted. “Have a look around.”

Harry obeyed with eyes that were starting to glisten. He had a floating bed and a net-like structure that went up one wall and across the ceiling for him to climb. It looked like perfect fun for a soon to be eight year-old-boy. The Occamy stopped moving and currently looked like it was curled up behind it.

Sirius gave a low whistle. _Bloody hell, Nissey. Way to outdo yourself_. However, the longer Harry stood in his room, staring wordlessly, the more concerned Sirius grew. Then, Harry took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes with his overly large shirt, which caused alarm to flare brightly in his chest.

“Prongslet?” The old nickname slipped thoughtlessly from Sirius’s lips. “What’s wrong? Do you not like it? We can change anything you want.” He could tell that wasn’t the problem, but the sight of his godson’s tears made him panic.

Harry spun around, put his glasses on his face, and hurried out of the room, not meeting his godfather’s eyes. “It’s great. We can go see Eliot’s now.” 

Harry didn’t even look in his closet or the toy chest, just fled the room like it was on fire. Sirius knew he should say or do something godfatherly to comfort him, but was at a loss as to what exactly that should be. He felt useless as he watched them rush into Eliot’s room and close the door behind them. A clear sign they didn’t want him following. 

Sirius sighed dejectedly, “One step forward and two back.”

He needed someone to talk to, even if that “someone” was nothing more than memory and paint. He disapparated into the study to see his Uncle Alphard’s portrait. It had comfortable furniture, deep colors, and dark wood. A spiral staircase led up to a balcony with a carved wooden banister. It wrapped around the entire room; richly carved bookcases filled to the brim could be found up there.

The portrait hung over the fireplace across from an overly extravagant desk. Sirius leaned against it to look at his uncle’s portrait for the first time in many years. Alphard’s face had the same structure as his own, high cheekbones, and symmetrical. His black hair was greying and cropped short. There were laugh lines around his closed eyes, and his head leaned back in the same throne-like chair that could be found in the Great Room. Alphard had a bottle of elderflower wine on the table next to him. He wore his nicest set of dress robes and his favorite hat.

It was a wide-brimmed ebony top hat that looked like a tower, with four ornate windows encircling it. A little dark owl perch inside and screeched if you made eye contact with it. Not a soul in the wizarding world had hats like Alphard Black when he was alive. He made them himself; each one was as unique as the last.

“Oi!” Sirius called loudly. “Wake up, you lazy old sod.” 

Alphard started and gave him an annoyed glare. “Disrespectful little brat. Even my death has not stopped you from waking me as obnoxiously as you can.”

Alphard and Walburga had the same habit of never using contractions when they spoke. It made them sound like snobs, but Sirius didn’t mind it so much with his uncle. 

“Oh, come on.” Sirius rolled his grey eyes. “That was mild compared to what I used to do.”

“If there is another way to pester a portrait awake, I am sure you will think of it.” Alphard straightened up and smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in his clothes. “Is there something you needed?” 

Sirius shrugged helplessly, “A distraction? Advice? I’m not sure.”

“What happened?” Alphard eyed him from the top of his head, down to his boot-covered feet.

It all came spilling out; the deaths he witnessed in the war, Wormtail becoming the Secret-Keeper, his stay in Azkaban, and everything in between. He told the portrait all of it. Some portraits are capable of actual emotion, while others just emulate it, with varying degrees of success. The more life-like and close to the real person a portrait was, depended on how much time that person spent with it before they died. Uncle Alphard’s looked like it cared about what Sirius was saying. It was good to able to unload all of this madness.

“Who knows what happened to my godsons because of my failure!” Sirius was pacing and gesturing wildly as he spoke. “Were they beaten? Starved? Neglected all together? I don’t know what their chores entail, but their clothes don’t come close to fitting, and they were surprised to have a _room_. A room, Uncle Alphard! Where in the fuck did Petunia have them sleeping, if not a room? And don’t get me started on the fact that they ran away with a stranger the first chance they got! _That_ speaks volumes.” 

“Those muggles cannot get away with treating your children in such a manner,” Alphard said sternly, dark eyes flashed in outrage. _Your children_ , Sirius was stuck on that phrase for a second. “What shall we do about it? Flog them? Cut their tongues out? Behead them? You must be careful about using magic, though, seeing as you are a wanted man.” 

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sirius held up his hands. The way his uncle was raised always shone through when he was provoked. “I can’t do any of those things to them, are you mental?” 

Although having Petunia’s tongue taken out was an idea that had merit. He can’t do it, though. He promised Harry.

“You must do _something_.”

He appreciated the portrait’s fury on his behalf, but unfortunately, “I’ve already attacked her once,” Sirius grumbled. “I can’t do it again. I promised Harry.”

“Is there muggle law about this sort of thing?” Alphard poured himself a glass of wine.

“No idea,” Sirius admitted. “Even if there is, I can’t risk being seen, so how would I talk to the muggle Aurors about it? I don’t know how muggle postage works.”

“You need an ally, _petite étoile,_ ” Alphard said, which meant _little star_ in french. “You cannot do this alone.” 

“I know.” Sirius tugged on his hair in frustration. “I want to contact Moony, but we weren’t exactly on the best of terms before my imprisonment. What if he believes I’m guilty? I have no solid proof otherwise, not with Wormtail being Merlin knows where.”

Alphard raised a disbelieving brow and took a sip out of his glass. “Are you a wizard or not? Put your memories in a vial and send it to him. You can always tell when a memory is tampered with. He will know the truth when he sees it with his own eyes.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” He grinned, hope bloomed inside of him. “Do you have a Pensieve I can shrink down and send as well? Moony won’t be able to view them otherwise.”

“I do,” Alphard nodded and took another sip. “Tipkey knows where it is.”

A weight lifted off of Sirius. Soon Moony will know the truth, then at least he’ll have one of his friends back.

“Tipkey!” Sirius called. 

The elf appeared, holding a Daily Prophet. As soon as Sirius grabbed it, a snack and a cuppa appeared on the desk. He took a sip and let out a noise of appreciation. Hibiscus tea, which had a tart, cranberry-like flavor, and was utterly delicious with the honey she added to it. 

“Young Master needs to eat again,” Tipkey said sternly.

Sirius sent a _look_ to his uncle’s portrait. It was his counterpart that encouraged her mother-hen behavior when he was alive. Alphard merely took a sip of his wine with an amused glint in his eyes. Figures.

“I know, Tip. I promised, didn’t I?” Sirius popped a few pumpkin seeds into his mouth. He didn’t know what she seasoned them with, but they were bloody good. “Happy?”

“Yes,” Tipkey said, ignoring his tone. 

“Good. I need a few things.” Sirius put a few more seeds into his mouth. “Three vials and the Pensieve, shrink it down so it can be sent off. Do we have an owl here?” Tipkey shook her head no, “Well, then, I suppose we’ll need one of those too.”

“Any particular breed, Young Master?”

“No,” Sirius waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever breed you think is best. I’ll need you to go to Eeylops Owl Emporium as soon as you can. It’s important.”

Owls in the magical community have an innate ability to find the recipients of letters. They also have a higher form of intelligence than their counterparts in the wild and longer life spans.

“Tipkey will be back soon.”

Sirius looked at the Daily Prophet when she disappeared and scoffed. Right on the front page was his face. “I look deranged.”

“You are deranged,” Alphard commented mildly.

He ignored the portrait and glanced over the article. There were speculations on how he escaped and why. Most seem to think he wanted to “finish his master’s work” and kill the “Boy-Who-Lived.” There were quotes from people who hoped the boy hero would be able to keep his little brother safe again.

“The Boy-Who-Lived.” Sirius’s lip curled in disgust. “Harry was an infant who had to watch his mother be _killed,_ and those heartless wankers glorify him for it. He doesn’t need fame; he needs his _parents_ and to live in peace. What shite is this?”

“Journalists of the Daily Prophet have always been vultures, _petite étoile._ ”

Sirius glared at the newspaper. “They should be ashamed of themselves.”

He didn’t care what they were saying about him. What he cared about was how much responsibility they are putting on a child. They barely mention Eliot; the younger Potter boy seemed to be an afterthought. Even though the headline was Sirius’s escape, most of the article seemed to revolve around Harry. It was disturbing, the obsession they appeared to have with him.

Sirius was still mad about the article when Tipkey returned an hour later. The shrunken pensieve and the vials he asked for appeared on the desk.

“Tipkey put anti-tracking charms on her, Young Master,” Tipkey informed, sitting the caged owl on the floor.

“Thanks,” Sirius replied absently, kneeling to get a better look at his new owl.

It was a Eurasian Eagle-owl, she had distinctive tawny ear tufts, with upper parts that were mottled with darker blackish coloring. The wings and tail were barred, and her bright orange eyes stared at Sirius intensely.

“Hello,” Sirius greeted as he reached over to open the door. The owl cautiously stepped out of the cage. “I wish we had more time to get to know each other first, but I have something important that needs delivering. Would you mind? We’ll make sure you have treats and water before you go if you’d like.”

He could tell she liked the respectful tone he spoke to her with. Her bright orange eyes flickered from his hand to his face expectantly.

“Treats first?” Sirius chuckled, “I like how you think. Tipkey?”

The elf got the owl treats, and he held them out to her. The owl eyed them, to make sure they were to her standards, before gently eating them out of his hand.

“You need a name. Hmm, Estrella?” She just stared at him. He took that as a no. “Celeste?” No reaction. “Artemis?” The owl nibbled at her claws with her beak. “Vesper? Talitha? Sidra? Leda?” She started combing her head with her claws. Still no. “Remi? Thalassa? Cinnamon? Juniper?” This time she looked up at him and let out a light hoot. “Yes? You like that one?”

Juniper took flight and started to explore the study.

“I guess so.” Sirius snorted. He thought she’d never agree on a name.

Sirius stood and got his wand out. He knew what three memories he was going to send: the first would be when it was decided Wormtail would be the Secret-Keeper, then the day Sirius went to check on the rat before the Fidelius was cast, and finally, the confrontation that led to Wormtail blowing up a street full of muggles. Sirius put them in their respective vials and got everything wrapped up and ready to send.

“Juni?” Sirius looked around for her. “Will you take something for me?”

Juniper landed on the desk. Sirius sat the package near her, and she grabbed it with her claws, her wings flapping with the movement.

“It needs to go to Remus Lupin,” Sirius told her as he led her out the front door. Jupiter shot through the sky, and he watched her go with an anxious knot building in his stomach.

The rest of the night was uneventful. He only saw the boys again at supper, and the conversation was stilted and awkward. They thanked him for their rooms but acted more reserved than before. When they caught his eyes, they’d flush and look away again bashfully. Sirius didn’t try to suggest they do something together when the meal was done, just let them know Tipkey would help with their bath if they needed it.

“It’s not going to be like this tomorrow, is it?” Sirius asked Nissey. “I thought things were going well at lunch. Now they can barely look at me.”

“The little ones are not used to kindness, Young Master,” Nissey replied sadly. “Nissey doesn’t think they’ve ever had anything for themselves before.”

“I could kill those muggles.” He confessed.

Nissey glared, “Say the word, and Nissey will do it.”

“I wish I could.” Sirius rested his head in his hands. What was he going to do? How can he make Harry and Eliot see that they deserve far more than what shite life has dealt them?


	7. Chapter 7

Eleven o'clock morphed into twelve. Then one o’clock became two in the morning, and yet, Sirius was still awake. The first thing that happened was he moved to the floor because the bed was too comfortable – how fucked up was that? – but all he could concentrate on were the bathroom and bedroom doors being closed. He bathed with it closed just fine, so he didn’t know why this was different, just that it _was_. Sirius tried to tell himself he was being stupid. The room wasn’t getting smaller _or_ colder. There was no reason to panic. It was all in his head.

Logic didn’t help. He eventually gave in and opened both doors. It was embarrassing that he needed to do it to stop feeling on edge. 

Next, he changed in Padfoot.

When he tried to sleep as a human, his brain reminded him of the terror he felt waking up on the couch the moment he was about to drift off. Padfoot curled up on the floor for a long time, unable to stop himself from obsessing over everything that could go wrong with his godsons and sending the memories to Moony. The entire night he only managed three hours of restless sleep before he gave up.

Sirius decided fresh air would do him good and went to the front porch. The warmth he felt this early in the morning didn’t bode well for later. He could tell it was going to be hotter than Merlin’s balls today. Sirius sat on a lounge chair, wearing boxers and a plain shirt he threw on at random. He had more muggle clothes mixed in his closet now, along with his various robes. Tipkey must have taken upon herself to get more after he requested the first muggle outfit. Some of the articles of clothing looked so ridiculous that he couldn’t be _paid_ to put them on, but the effort was appreciated.

Nissey appeared sometime later, “The little ones are waiting for Young Master in the dining room.”

Sirius shook himself out of his thoughts, literally. It made him look quite like his animagus form. “How long have I been out here?”

“Two hours,” Nissey answered promptly.

 _How did that much time get away from me?_ He thought as he summoned a pair of trousers.

The boys sat down hurriedly when Sirius walked into the dining room. Harry wore trousers and a band shirt. Tipkey must have chosen it to mimic the outfit Sirius first requested. Harry looked much better now that he was cleaned up and had clothes that fit, although his wild locks still defied rules and gravity with equal contempt.

Eliot had on shorts and a patterned top. His auburn hair was still oily and unkempt. The younger boy had a faint odor as well that gave away he has yet to bathe. Sirius noticed but didn’t comment. He prefers to shower in the mornings himself, perhaps Eliot wanted to wait until after breakfast.

The moment he slid into his chair, enormous platters of food appeared in front of each of them.

Sirius’s eyebrows flew up in disbelief. “How does she expect us to eat all of this?”

As good as the smell was, his stomach protested at the sight of his plate. It was enough food to feed a giant. He knows Tipkey wants him to eat more, but this was going too far.

“I dunno,” Eliot murmured, not glancing his way.

Sirius fought the urge to sigh. It seemed like the mood from yesterday was going to continue. They ate in awkward silence for a moment more before his godsons exploded with excessive apologies. It was so unexcepted he choked on his food.

“I’m so sorry!” Harry’s green eyes stared at him, imploringly.

“Me too!” Eliot still wasn’t looking away from his plate. “Please don’t make us go back to the Dursley’s.”

“Please. We’ll do better.” Harry promised.

“You can punish us however you like,” Eliot peeked at Sirius out of the corner of his eyes.

Harry nodded, looking oddly hopeful. “We’re good at taking our punishments.”

They continued verbally tripping over each other to get apologies and promises out as fast as they could. Sirius gaped at them in stunned silence. What on earth were they going on about? Did something happen, and he forgot? If he was having blackouts, that was extremely concerning.

Just as concerning as ‘you can punish us however you like’ and ‘we’re good at taking our punishments.’ Does he truly have to keep his promise not to go near Petunia again?

“Boys!” Sirius had to raise his voice to be heard over them. They both flinched, and he felt like the worst godfather in the world. “I feel like you skipped a few steps. I’m not sure how we went from eating to _that_. What are you apologizing for exactly?”

They exchanged looks that Sirius interrupted as them questioning whether or not that was a trick question. Was it obvious, and he was being obtuse?

“We,” Harry swallowed and squared his shoulders. “We were rude yesterday. We avoided you, and slammed the door in your face, and—”

“And we were rude at supper,” Eliot cut in. “We were ungrateful.”

“We’re sorry,” Harry said again.

All that groveling because they needed time to themselves?

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Sirius reassured in a soft voice, using all his effort to keep a lid on his anger. They’d only think it was directed at them. “A lot happened yesterday, yeah? Your whole world changed. If you need time alone, that’s perfectly fine, okay?”

Eliot finally looked up from his food, “You’re not sending us back?”

“This is your home,” Sirius said firmly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Blushes stained their cheeks, and they finally relaxed. To Sirius’s relief, breakfast went more smoothly after that.

“Can we hear another story about some of the stuff you did in school?” Eliot asked hesitantly.

“With our parents,” Harry added like he had to specify, or else Sirius might forget Lily and James went to Hogwarts at all. 

“I’ll tell you those stories anytime you like.” His expression grew wistful as he recalled his school days. “No students were allowed out of bed at night, yeah? So, we thought it’d be fun to levitate our beds around the halls. We weren’t _technically_ out of bed, but McGonagall, our Head of House, was not amused with that defense. We told her if the professors didn’t want us levitating our beds around Hogwarts, they should have specified.”

“They meant don’t leave your _room_.” Harry laughed. It was a wonderful sound to hear.

Sirius shrugged with a mischievous look on his face. “They didn’t say that, though, did they? We had a lot of fun exploiting loopholes in the rules. I’m sure McGonagall never wanted to hear the word technically again by the time we graduated.”

“Did Mum do that too?” Eliot had food smeared around his mouth from his messy eating.

“Lily was a stickler for the rules,” Sirius chuckled. “Or most of them, at least and she felt that a lot of the pranks we did were in bad taste.”

“Were they?” Harry asked, wiping at a bit of sauce that got on his shirt, which only smeared it and made a bigger stain. 

“Probably,” Sirius admitted. “I told you I was a little shite in school.”

“What did Mum like doing then?”

“She fancied having debates about any kind of issue,” Sirius replied, spearing his fried egg. “Her sense of humor was mainly satire and wordplay. Lily had her parents send her these weekly comic strips when we were in school. I only noticed when she started dating James, but she’d let me read them, and they were pretty funny. When I didn’t understand the muggle references, she’d explain them to me. That was how we started becoming friends.”

Sirius was never particularly fond of Lily before then. He thought she was stuck up. It turned out that Lily was far more brilliant than he realized. He got to know the person she was when she wasn’t rejecting James or yelling at the Marauders. Sirius could admit now that they deserved it more often than not.

Harry stared at him in wonder. “Mum liked comic strips?”

“Loved them,” Sirius nodded, trying a bite of sausage. Delicious.

“Wow,” Eliot said with reverence.

* * *

Sirius learned that apologizing for no reason was something the boys frequently did. They think the slightest imperfection required apologizing. If they woke up late, went somewhere in the house without asking first, or even if they disagreed with Sirius’s opinion. For example, Sirius adored liquorice wands and wanted the boys to try one. Eliot thought they were all right, but Harry spat out his bite immediately, which started his excessive apologies.

Harry thought he was _ungrateful_ for not liking the candy that his godfather did.

Ungrateful was something they called themselves often, no matter how many times Sirius reassured them they don’t have anything to be sorry for. The Dursley’s dug it into their heads so deep, Sirius didn’t know how he was going to get it out.

Another problem cropped up after three days when it became abundantly clear that Eliot had a _thing_ against baths and showers. He’d try to get himself as clean as he could using sink water, but that was it. Sirius knew it was because of something that was done to him, it had to be, no child would be that afraid of it otherwise. But if Sirius tried to bring it up, Eliot would deflect or avoid Sirius for hours. He didn’t want his godson to feel embarrassed, so Sirius told Tipkey to offer Eliot daily cleaning charms and didn’t bring up the subject with his godson again.

He wished Moony were here. Sirius knows he’d have an idea on how to help Eliot.

Don’t get Sirius wrong, though. There were wonderful things he learned about them too. Eliot adored bees. So much so, that Sirius transfigured him a few and charmed them to fly around his room. His new favorite thing to eat was eggplant. Any way Tipkey could cook it, Eliot would eat it with enthusiasm. Because of his aversion with large quantities of water, Eliot liked to hear about aquatic animals. He hoped that if he heard enough good things about water, it’d help him be less afraid.

Harry liked exploring and being active. Sirius heard him making up adventures with Eliot around the house. Once, it was pretending to see whatever new magical creature he learned about, and following it around, narrating to Eliot what it was doing. Another time, he had the idea to climb up and down the stairs with Eliot and pretend they were exploring a volcano.

Sirius liked to watch them when they just being kids and not worrying about what they thought he wanted.

It was currently July 23rd, eight days before Harry’s birthday. Sirius knows that he can’t invite people over, but he still wanted it to be the best birthday any eight-year-old has ever had. He thought it could be themed like a festival! Was that over-the-top? Perhaps, but Harry deserved it. Every game he could think of would be set up outside; Exploding Snap, Gobstones, Wizard Skittles, Flying Seahorse Fishing, and even the board-game Snitch Snatchers. 

Harry’s interest in flying tells Sirius he’d like that one. It featured a replica of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, which included “spectators” in the stands for all four Houses and miniature Quidditch players.

Of course, Sirius was going to be getting Harry a broom, but he was still thinking over a few ideas of what else he could get him.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if a vampire was a bear?” Eliot blurted randomly with a laugh, eyeing Sirius and Harry to gauge their reactions. It pulled Sirius out of his thoughts on Harry’s birthday. “It’d be a vamp-bear. Get it? _Vamp-bear_. That’s funny, right?”

Sirius nodded encouragingly. Eliot looked so proud of his nonsensical joke that it was incredibly endearing.

Harry did laugh, however, and, upon seeing Sirius’s positive reaction, decided to tell his own joke, “What kind of ant is good at karate?’

“I don’t know. What kind?” Sirius replied, even though he had no clue what karate was.

“A gi-ant.”

Eliot burst into laughter and collapsed back onto the grass. Harry beamed proudly.

“Good one, Harry.” Sirius chuckled. He didn’t get either of their jokes but enjoyed hearing them regardless. He wondered if his jokes were that bad when he was their age.

They were in the backyard, sitting in the shade under a tree to get a bit of relief from the summer heat. Rolling hills could be seen in the distance. They formed beautiful valleys; one of them had a river winding through it. 

“Lio, Prongslet, look there!” Sirius pointed where Juniper could now be seen flying towards them. His heart jumped into his throat. He didn’t tell her to wait for a reply, but either Moony requested it, or she took it upon herself to wait for one. “Remember me telling you about Juni?”

“She’s finally back!” Eliot cheered as his gaze zeroed in on her.

“What took her so long?” Harry asked. “Does your friend live far away?”

“Moony lives a bit far, yeah.” Sirius agreed. “But she must have been waiting for a reply if it took her three days to get back.”

“He writes slow,” Eliot commented.

Sirius laughed, and some of his anxiety abated. “Moony probably didn’t know what to say, that’s all.”

Juniper swooped down, releasing the package from her talons in front of him. A letter was in her beak, and Sirius gently grabbed it. Before he could say anything or offer treats, the owl was soaring toward the house. 

The excited sparkle in Eliot’s eyes faded with disappointment. “We didn’t get to meet her.”

“I’ll introduce you soon,” Sirius promised. “She might be tired.”

“She went a long way, Eliot.” Harry’s lips pulled down into a disapproving frown. “Let her sleep.”

Eliot stuck his tongue out at his brother in response.

Sirius opened the letter with trembling fingers. _What if he still doesn’t believe me? What if too much has happened for Moony to want to see me again?_ His fears turned out to be for nothing because right there in Remus’s neat script was a request to meet. He even added a please at the end. That was all that was on the parchment, just the one sentence, but it didn’t bother Sirius as it would have before. To him, it was the most amazing sentence he’s ever seen.

“Sirius?” Harry stared at him with a concerned expression. “He didn’t say anything mean to you, did he?”

Eliot looked highly offended at the thought.

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” Sirius was embarrassed to find that his voice was shaking. “It’s good news.”

“Good,” Harry’s firm tone amused Sirius. Perhaps Remus will get the scolding Sirius did when he comes. His eldest godson did love defending people he felt needed it.

“He wants to talk,” Sirius informed his boys. “Would you mind if he came here, or would you rather I meet him somewhere else?”

Harry and Eliot’s comfort was his top priority.

“It’s your house,” Harry said, eyeing Sirius uncertainly. The fact that his godsons were unused to having a say in their lives needed to change.

“It’s _our_ house.” Sirius corrected.

“Do we have to meet him?” Eliot asked.

“No,” Sirius reassured. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“Okay, then.” Harry decided. “I don’t mind if he comes here.”

Eliot shrugged, “Me either, I guess.”

“I’ll send Tip to get him soon, then.” Sirius leaned back against the tree. Secure wards or not, he couldn’t risk sending the floo address or the location of the house through the mail.

“Can it be after supper?” Harry requested.

“If you’d like.”

“Hey, Sirius.” Eliot grinned and waved a stick. “Fetch!”

Padfoot took Sirius’s place and bolted as soon as Eliot threw it. After a few rounds of that, Eliot found a bigger stick and wanted to play tug-of-war. Eliot held both ends while Padfoot bit the middle. His claws dug into the earth as he shook his head, a playful growl rumbled in his throat. 

“Don’t let him win, Eli!” Harry called out. 

Padfoot tugged harder, made sure to catch Harry’s eyes, and let out another playful sound. _My own godson, siding against me. What has the world come to?_ Harry seemed to get what he was trying to communicate and grinned unrepentantly.

They spent hours outside. Children had a never-ending amount of energy. Sirius was exhausted by the time they sat down in the dining room for supper. Each of them had a different dish appear in front of them. Eliot lit up at the sight of his Speedy Eggplant Parmesan, which consisted of shredded mozzarella and strips of Panko-crusted eggplant.

“Fish and chips,” Harry said happily. It was a simple meal, but Tipkey knew it was his favorite.

Did Sirius purposefully eat as slowly as he could to put off Moony’s arrival? Of course not. It always took him nearly an hour to finish his meal. Cleaning himself up and pacing anxiously outside was another regular post-supper activity he partook in. It had nothing to do with Moony. Nothing at all.

Sirius’s heart wasn’t racing, and his legs _didn’t_ almost give out from underneath him when Tipkey appeared with Remus in the front yard. He was a grown man; thank you very much. He reacted with all the maturity and grace an adult was expected to in stressful situations.

 _‘Very convincing,’_ a sarcastic voice commented from somewhere behind him.

‘Bugger off. Now isn’t the time for my insanity to ruin things,’ Sirius thought back aggressively, barely resisting the urge to hiss the words out loud. The last thing Sirius needed was Moony seeing him arguing with thin air.

“Tipkey will check on the little ones,” Tipkey informed, leaving Sirius and Remus alone outside.

Seconds passed as Sirius took him in, struggling to comprehend that he isn't a figment of his imagination, that Moony actually stood in front of him. Remus’s light brown hair was tousled, and his thin brows sloped downwards into a serious expression. There were scars on his face that weren’t there the last time Sirius saw him. They ran diagonally from the left side of his face, down his right cheek, and stopped at his jawline. Remus looked just as handsome as always and was dressed in several layers despite the heat. Some things never changed.

There were many things Sirius _should’ve_ said, but all that came out was, “You look like shite.”

‘ _Smooth_ ,’ the unidentifiable voice scoffed. He ignored it.

Amusement lit Remus’s amber eyes, reflective light from his irises cast off a near translucent golden color. The tension in his shoulders eased, and his lips quirked up slightly. “Like you have any room to talk.”

Sirius forced a laugh, “True.”

Remus pulled Sirius into an unexpected embrace. His arms folded around Sirius’s back, drawing him close. Every muscle in Sirius’s body went limp as he melted into the muscular chest. Remus’s hold was firm but gentle as their bodies pressed against each other. 

“I’m so sorry,” Remus’s voice was thick with emotion. The breath on his skin sent shivers down Sirius’s spine. “I knew it couldn’t be true, but I let myself be convinced because Albus seemed so sure. My whole world fell apart, and I didn’t fight for you. I should have fought.”

Sirius ducked his head so his face pressed into Remus’s neck, tears stung his eyes. He wasn’t much shorter than Remus, but their height difference was enough to allow that. “There was nothing you could have done, Moony. I’m sorry too. I doubted you. I was stupid, and arrogant, and paranoid, and–”

“I forgive you, Padfoot,” Remus cut him off and tightened his grip. “Can you forgive me?”

“Don’t be stupid. There’s nothing to forgive.” He had enough anger directed at Dumbledore, the Ministry, and Wormtail to bother holding onto any for his Moony. 

Sirius would never tell anyone how badly he missed being held. Remus’s touch soothed and excited him in equal measure. It was overwhelming but he never wanted the moment to end.

“I missed you, Moony.” Sirius muttered; warmth crept up his neck. He didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“I missed you too,” Remus admitted softly. He pulled back and released his hold on Sirius. Everything in Sirius protested at the loss of contact, his chest ached and his arms fell uselessly to his sides.


	8. Chapter 8

Sirius couldn’t remember which one of them decided getting a drink would be a good idea. They were sitting on the porch, talking, trying to make things feel normal between them, and then someone thought a casual drink between friends would be a smart move. Sirius was underweight and hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in years. After one glass of Firewhisky, he was absolutely pissed.

“You’re the best, Moony.” Sirius slurred, his tongue was heavy in his mouth. He felt dizzy and detached from reality; the world blurred around the edges. “Y’know that? The best.”

“I forgot how emotional of a drunk you are,” Remus replied fondly. The words didn’t register in Sirius’s mind.

“I dunno how I even thought you, that I thought you would do that.” Sirius continued guiltily. “Sweet Moony. Lovely Moony. You’re so nice. The nicest nice out of all the niceness in the world.”

Remus chuckled and ran a hand through Sirius’s hair, which was strange because Sirius didn’t recall putting his head in his lap. “I don’t know about that. It’s only been an hour, and I’ve already driven you to drink.”

“Hmm, s'nice,” Sirius sighed. The fingers stroking his hair made him feel like he could melt into a puddle of nothing. Remus’s nails scratched along his scalp gently, and he let out a moan. “Y’know what you should do, Rem? This. All the time. People’d pay money for this.”

“Professional Scalp Masseur?” Remus pretended to consider it. “All these years struggling to make ends meet, and that was the solution all along, was it?”

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, even though he didn’t hear what Moony said. How could he focus on anything other than the thigh he was resting on and the fingers playing with his hair?

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Remus deadpanned. 

“Chocolate candles,” Sirius added. _What am I talking about?_ “Those too.”

“Professional Scalp Masseur, who sells chocolate candles on the side. Solid career move. I’ll get right on it.”

Sirius was adrift, floating in a haze. The voices couldn’t reach him here, nor could the shadows taunt him.

“As much fun as this is, perhaps we should get a Sober-Up potion in you. What do you say?”

“I’ve never been soberer in my _life_ ,” Sirius protested, the tip of his tongue protruded oddly between teeth, making his words come out in a drunken lisp. He shook his head and nearly vomited— bad idea. 

“Of course,” Remus said dryly. “My mistake.”

Even though Sirius was certain he won that argument, he still found himself sitting upright and downing the potion a short time later. As soon as the Sober-Up settled in his stomach, it felt like he was kicked in the face by a hippogriff. He winced as the fading daylight stabbed him in the eyes.

“You better have asked for something for my hangover as well,” Sirius grumbled, doing his best to glare at Remus and shield his eyes from the setting sun at the same time. “If I have to be sober, it’s sure as shite not going to be like this.”

Remus’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and the subtle upward quirk of his mouth told Sirius he was smothering a laugh _._ “You’re the one that said we should have a drink to celebrate.”

Sirius refused to take sole responsibility for the throbbing pressure in his head and nausea in his stomach, “You should’ve stopped me.”

“When has _that_ ever worked?” Remus responded, clearly enjoying Sirius’s misery. The bastard.

Sirius ignored his cheek and called for Tipkey.

“Tipkey has the Hangover Tonic,” Tipkey said when she appeared with a soft _pop_. She held out a vial for him to take.

“At least someone is looking out for me. Thanks, Tip,” Sirius drank the potion as quickly as he could. Relief spread throughout his body as the hangover dissipated, only for him to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when Remus stood and brushed himself off. “You’re not leaving already, are you? You just got here!”

Remus gave him an apologetic look, “I have to be up early in the morning for work, but I’ll come back in few days when I have a full day off if that’s all right? That way, we’ll have more time to visit properly.”

“You can spare a few more minutes!” Sirius insisted. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. “Where are you working these days?”

“Anywhere that’ll have me, which is mainly the muggle world. Wizards don’t want to risk hiring me, lest they become werewolf chow,” Remus said self-deprecatingly.

Sirius felt old anger resurface in reaction to the self-hatred in his mate’s voice.

“Don’t _joke_ about that, Remus.” Sirius hissed, his body stiffened, and his jaw clenched. “You were at the top of our class when we graduated. You deserve more than _scraps_. If people weren’t such bigoted wankers, you’d—”

“But they are,” Remus interrupted calmly. “There’s nothing to be done about it, Padfoot, no point getting yourself worked up.”

“No point?” Sirius repeated incredulously, rising to his feet. This was an argument he didn’t miss having. “Of course, there is! I care about you, you stubborn prat. How are we still having this conversation after all these years?” He jabbed a finger into Moony’s chest. “You’re not worth less just because you turn into an animal once a month! If I stay quiet, that’s basically saying I agree with that bollocks, and I never will, Moony.” Remus had an odd look on his face, and it caused Sirius’s temper to flare hotter. “What you looking at me like that for?!”

“I forgot how charming you are when you get defensive on my behalf,” Remus admitted, amber eyes warm with admiration. “I’ve missed it if I’m honest.”

Has he lost his _mind_? Moony can’t just go around _saying_ things like that.

Sirius averted his gaze. A pleased flush spread across his cheeks against his will. “Oh, shut up.”

* * *

Sirius woke up to the sound of his own screaming. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it was trying to tear its way out of his chest. Adrenaline surged through his body, he could taste saliva thickening in his throat and feel the sweat he was drenched in. The sound died in his throat at the sight that awaited him in the corner of his room. It was the most horrifying thing he’d ever seen.

James Potter stood unsteadily on his feet across the bedroom. Dark blue, black, green areas of flesh marred his skin. He had glazed over white eyes and sunken eye sockets; fungus grew around his mouth and nostrils. Sirius gagged at the repulsive scent radiating off him.

“Young Master had another bad dream,” Tipkey said softly. _When did she get here?_ He could see her now out of the corner of his eye, gazing at him pityingly.

Sirius didn’t speak or move a single muscle. He stared at James from his spot beside the bed, and his dead best mate stared back.

“It’s not real,” Tipkey tried again.

 _How can you be sure?_ Sirius wanted to ask. He blinked a few times, and the corpse mercifully disappeared. Thank, Merlin. The vice-like grip around his chest loosened, allowing him to breathe properly.

“Did I blow something up?” Sirius rasped out. He noticed he didn’t have his wand in his hand, and the room looked to be in order, but neither one of those things mattered much with Tipkey here. She could’ve already cleaned up whatever mess he made this time.

“No, Young Master.”

“Good,” Sirius fell back onto his mess of blankets, breathing heavily. “You can go now. I’ll be fine.”

“Tipkey will come back if the Young Master changes his mind.”

He barely heard the little sound that signified she’d left.

“That’s what I get for going to sleep in such a good mood,” Sirius grumbled into the empty room. Naturally, he’d accidentally shift back in a human his sleep and wake up to _that_. “Yesterday went so well. I should’ve known the universe wouldn’t let that go unpunished. Merlin forbid I have too much happiness at one time.”

A gnawing feeling started in his gut, followed by an ache that spread throughout his entire body. He couldn’t feel anything else except for that ache. Nothing was physically wrong with him, but the ache was still there, deep inside the core of his being. The emptiness was so consuming that he couldn’t pretend that everything was okay for his godsons. Tipkey brought him food when it became clear he wasn’t coming down for breakfast.

He stayed on the floor for hours, knowing he should get up but not being able to muster the energy.

‘ _Those children desperately need someone they can rely on, but sure, worry them by not showing for breakfast or lunch_. _Great parenting_.’

Sirius scowled, “Oh, honestly. Why are you still here? Can you lot let me have one day where I don’t have to deal with your nonsense?”

‘ _I don’t know how to tell you this_ ,’ the voice paused dramatically, ‘ _but you’ve lost the plot._ ’

‘ _You’re as mad as a hatter,_ ’ A feminine voice agreed.

‘ _Five Sickles short of a Galleon_.’

They’re making jokes at his expense now? Fan-bloody-tastic. One even used a muggle reference to do it.

“I get it!” Sirius shouted; a feeling of irritation penetrated the numbness. It’s the first thing he’s been able to feel since James’s dead body disappeared. Unfortunately — or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it — it gave him the kick in the arse he needed to start moving.

He showered and threw on something random before checking the time. Sirius was astonished to find that it was nearing 3 in the afternoon.

“Tipkey?” Sirius called.

She appeared immediately.

“Young Master is up!” Tipkey beamed. “The little ones were asking when they’d see him today.”

Sirius's stomach squirmed guiltily, “They’re not cross with me, are they?”

Tipkey shook her head, “Tipkey told them the Young Master needed extra rest today. Tipkey said he was feeling unwell, and the little ones said they hoped he felt better soon.”

That made him feel worse. Harry and Eliot think he’s been sick or something when in reality, Sirius has just been up here moping for hours. He can’t let that happen again.

“Where are they?” Sirius asked. “It’s past time I check in on them, I think.”

“The backyard.” She answered promptly.

Harry and Eliot were kneeling by a small brown snake when he got outside. It had a dark head with a lighter brown band on the nape of its neck. A thin, forked tongue flicked at his godsons as it let out a hiss. What happened next caused Sirius to freeze mid-step. Harry opened his mouth and _hissed back_. Not in a childish mimicry sort-of-way, but in a manner that couldn’t be anything other than Parseltongue. The snake’s head swayed and bobbed. It couldn’t be more than 40cm from head to tip.

Eliot bounced on his knees in excitement, “Tell her that she’s the only snake we’ve seen so far and ask if she’ll come back.”

Harry obediently hissed at the little snake again.

Sirius stared with wide grey eyes, utterly bewildered. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Harry was _speaking_ to it. How in the bloody fuck-all was he a Parselmouth? That’s hereditary. There hasn’t been a Parselmouth in his bloodline, has there? No, Sirius would’ve known if there was.

Eliot noticed Sirius at that point and smacked Harry on the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” Harry glowered, and followed his brother’s gaze. The blood drained from his little face at the sight of his godfather’s dumbfounded expression. “I’m sorry, Sirius.”

It was a kneejerk reaction. If Sirius asked, he knew Harry wouldn’t be able to tell him what he was apologizing for.

“You’re not in trouble,” Sirius reassured, somehow finding his voice. “I was just surprised.” _Understatement of the century._

Harry relaxed; relief washed away the fear in his eyes. “Why? It’s a magic thing, right? Can’t you understand her?”

“Definitely not.” Sirius snorted. “What you’re speaking is called Parseltongue. It very rare, Prongslet.”

“It’s not bad, though, is it?” Harry asked in a small, insecure voice.

People fear what they can’t understand or explain. Long before Voldemort was even born, people on this side of the world thought the language was the trait of dark wizards. The reason for that was because Salazar Slytherin’s family line was the most famous for the ability. However, they weren’t only ones in the entire world to have had it.

“No. Some people might say it’s evil, but they’d be stupid. It’s just a language, mate. Just because it’s an animal language doesn’t mean it’s bad. The only difference in Parseltongue and, say, French, is that Parselmouths are born with the ability. It can’t be taught.” Sirius explained. “The only odd thing about you speaking it is that I don’t know where you got it from. Neither the Potter’s nor the Black’s have a Parselmouth ancestor, not that I know of anyway. If they did, it would’ve manifested long before now. I suppose Lily’s family could have a squib in their family tree somewhere that was descended from Parselmouths. Highly unlikely, but not impossible.”

“Right,” Harry nodded as if he understood every bit of his godfather’s rambling. “It’s good to have a name for it.”

“Harry, she’s leaving!” Eliot jerked Harry’s arm. “Make her stay.”

“I can’t _make_ her. How do you like it when people make _you_ do something you don’t want?” Harry scolded in defense of the snake. Eliot rolled his eyes dramatically. “I can ask, though.”

“That’s what I _meant_ ,” Eliot huffed and shot Sirius a look that said, _you see what I have to put up with?_

Sirius shrugged back, lips pulling into a half-smile. Why did he wait so long before coming to see them? He should’ve known they’d help his mood.

“She said she’s hungry,” Harry translated. “She’ll come back some other time.”

“When?” Eliot demanded impatiently.

“I don’t know, Eli. Snakes don’t keep track of time like we do. She’ll be back whenever she feels like it.”

“Harry talked to snakes all the time at the Dursley's,” Eliot told Sirius with bright hazel eyes. They looked more brown than usual today. “Well, not _all_ the time, I guess, but a lot! Anytime we’d see one if nobody was around. I used to call it his superpower.”

“Superpower,” Sirius chuckled. Kids are charming. “I like it.”

Harry blushed with embarrassment. “He doesn’t need to know you called it that, Eliot.”

“Superpowers are amazing!” Eliot protested.


	9. Chapter 9

_The golden snitch was invented in this century._

“Nineteenth,” Sirius said with satisfaction, filling in 10 across on the Daily Prophet crossword. He wonders if he’ll be able to finish it this morning, but isn’t holding his breath. He’ll have to catch up on all the little things he’s missed in the last few years — sports and what-have-you — if he wants a chance at that.

Two days have passed since Remus visited, today’s the start of the third, and Sirius was impatiently waiting for his full day off so he could come back.

“Sirius!” Eliot’s enthusiastic voice drew Sirius’s attention away from the next question. The boy came running into the dining room and gestured wildly at his trousers, which had little bees flying around on them. “Look what Nissey got me!”

“Woah!” Sirius grinned and let out a low whistle. “Get a look at those!”

Eliot gestured again. “They look good, don’t they?” 

Sirius made a show of looking the trousers over, tilting his head and nodding as he did so. “Without a doubt.”

Eliot had a smug look on his face but kept staring at his godfather as if the conversation wasn’t over yet. Harry appeared in the doorway then, as he had been following his brother at a much slower pace.

“Yes?” Sirius prompted when Eliot didn’t say anything else. “Am I missing something? Would you like me to compliment the shirt too? It’s a great shirt.”

Eliot shook his head, sending his mess of dark red hair flying. “No, that’s not it.” He shifted around on his feet, nervously. “I was wondering if, maybe, if it’s all right…” He trailed off and looked to Harry for help.

“It’s for you, not me,” Harry held up his hands and stepped further away.

Eliot huffed and turned his attention back to Sirius. “Well, I was hoping that maybe wecouldhaveabeefarm.” He said the words so fast they jumbled together.

“I didn’t catch that,” Sirius replied.

“Bee farming,” Eliot said hopefully. “It’s something muggles do! Beekeepers keep honey bees in boxes, where the hives are, and take care of them. Can we have one? Please, Sirius! I’ve read up on them! I can do a good job!”

“Bee farming?” Sirius repeated, unsure if Eliot was pulling his leg. The boy looked earnest enough, though. “Is that really a thing muggles do? Why?”

“To get honey. Can we have one, Sirius? Please. Just a little one?” Eliot looked at him with big, pleading hazel eyes. How was he supposed to say no to that?

“I don’t see why not. Talk to Tipkey and Nissey about it. Whatever beekeepers are supposed to do, you’ll have to help them do it.” Sirius tried to look stern and adult-like. Parental figures are supposed to teach responsibility or some such nonsense, aren’t they?

He didn’t know if it was okay for 7-year-olds to have ‘bee farms,’ but the fact that Eliot felt he could ask for one counted as a win in Sirius’s book. So, really, this was about teaching responsibility and encouraging them to be comfortable here. It had absolutely nothing to do with Sirius’s inability to keep from spoiling them as much as possible.

Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief as they flickered between Eliot and Sirius. He expected their godfather to say no.

“Really?! Oh, wow! Thanks, Sirius!” Eliot moved forward as if to hug him, but jerked to a stop instead, aborting the motion.

Sirius opened his arms invitingly. He’d love nothing more than to have an excuse to be physically affectionate with them. He’s been resisting the urge since he met them; it’d make his day if he didn’t have to do that anymore.

Eliot beamed and threw his arms around Sirius’s neck. The embrace might’ve looked a little awkward with Sirius sitting down, but he wrapped his arms around his godson and soaked it in.

“You won’t regret it.” Eliot let go as quickly as he latched on. “I’ll be the best beekeeper in the world, you’ll see!”

“I believe you,” said Sirius.

Eliot _hugged_ him, and it made his entire day. He’d say yes to damn near anything if it got that reaction.

“Do you wanna hear some cool things about bees?” Eliot asked.

“I’d love to,” Sirius smiled as he watched the boy eagerly take a seat next to him.

Harry calmly made his way over to sit next to Eliot at the table.

“Bees have five eyes and six legs. Pretty cool, huh? Honey Bees are super-important for flowers, fruits, and vegetables. They help plants grow.” Eliot’s passion for bees could be heard in every word. “Did you know they produce honey as food stores for the hive during winter? They make, like, twice as much as they need, so that we can enjoy the honey too!”

“I like honey,” He commented.

“Me too!” Eliot grinned. “Now, we’ll have fresh honey made in our own yard!” _Our_ yard. Sirius felt proud hearing him say those words. “I can’t believe I get to be a beekeeper. It’s going to be _great_. Did you know bees vote?”

“Vote?” Sirius asked, toying with the corner of the Daily Prophet absently. “How’s that?” His gaze slid to Harry momentarily, and he tried not to show his amusement at how bored the other boy seemed with the whole conversation.

Eliot shuffled forward in his seat, “Hundreds of little scouter bees leave the hive to search for a place for their forever home. When they find one that they think is okay, they report back and ‘dance’ a message to the others, because that’s how they talk, they dance. Then the scouts have a _debate_! Isn’t that brilliant?”

“Brilliant,” Sirius agreed. “I didn’t know bees were so smart.”

Harry interrupted before Eliot could continue gushing about bees, “Maybe we can play a game now? If you guys want.”

Eliot deflated but gave his brother a nod, “What game?”

“What about a treasure hunt?” Sirius offered. Eliot and Harry brightened at the suggestion. “Yes? Good then. We’ll get Nissey to hide the chess pieces around the house, whoever finds the most wins. The attic is still off-limits.” Tipkey put anything of Alphard’s that could be potentially harmful up there and warded it. That way, the kids could explore the house freely without stumbling across something they shouldn’t. “What do you think?”

“Will you play too?” Harry wondered.

“Of course, I will. I have to show you lot what a proper winner looked like, don’t I?” Sirius taunted good-naturedly.

His words got the competitive atmosphere flowing as both boys argued over who would win. After Sirius called Nissey hide the pieces — inside and out to make things harder — Harry told Sirius he couldn’t change into a dog while they played. Apparently, that would be _cheating_. Sirius hardly thought so, but he agreed anyway because when he wins, he doesn’t want either of them complaining about unfair advantages.

Nissey didn’t take long at all to reappear and enthusiastically announce, “Nissey is done!”

All three of them took off in different directions. The first floor had the kitchen with a small attached breakfast nook, a half-bath, the Great Room, the study, a solarium, and the studio — where Alphard used to craft and display his hats. The second floor is where all four bedrooms were.

Harry ran by Sirius while he was checking the Great Room, “I found one!” The boy waved the rook with a triumphant grin before running out the front door.

Sirius gave a chortle. “Competitive little bugger.” He didn’t rub it in _their_ face when he found a pawn stuffed in the bench in the foyer.

The game went on until there was only one left. Sirius and Harry both had six pieces at this point. Eliot only ended up with 3. He insisted he could’ve done better if Harry hadn’t distracted him, which the older boy fervently denied doing.

“It’s not my fault you’re pants at this!” Harry snapped when he was tired of defending himself.

“I’m _not_ bad at it, Harry!” Eliot scowled. “Next time, I’ll get them all, and you won’t find a single piece!”

“Now, boys,” Sirius interjected, waving his hands between them. “We’re just having a bit of fun here, yeah?” The boys quieted but exchanged a few more glares. “We still need to find the one that’ll break our tie, so less fighting and more searching.”

Sirius ran through a list of places it could be in his mind, checking off the ones he had already looked. Nearly half an hour passed, and they were all outside. He was soaked in sweat; black hair was plastered to his face and neck. The loose shirt he wore clung to him in places as the sun beat down on them brutally. The trees scattered around the yard cast patches of shade into the grass.

Harry shouted from the side of the house, “Found it!”

“The bloody hell you did.” Sirius denied, jogging around the corner to see where Nissey hid the blasted thing.

“I did!” Harry pointed at Kyros. “Look! There it is!”

Sirius eyed the hedge-creature carefully. Sure enough, the king could be spotted in brief flashes in-between each snap of the pincer-like fangs.

“Good eye!” Sirius was impressed and ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. It was the first time he didn’t overthink it and hold himself back. “How in the world did you _see_ that?”

Harry looked up at him with a grin, “I dunno. It was just luck, I guess.”

“Luck, my arse.” Sirius returned the grin with one of his own. “Let’s get your brother so we can have some lunch. Think about what candy you’d like as your prize.”

His godsons wanted to eat in the solarium this time, instead of the dining room. It was a lovely space with greenery, a plush rug, and plenty of comfortable places to sit. The walls and roof were made entirely out of glass. There were cooling charms in place that allowed them to enjoy the beautiful view without feeling the heat of the afternoon sun.

“A letter arrived for the Young Master,” Tipkey appeared when they were nearly done eating and held out the parchment for him to take. “Tipkey made sure the owl had treats before he left.”

Godfrey? Sirius wondered. He’d forgotten about the Potter’s owl. Remus would’ve still had him _that_ night. The boys should meet him sometime. They’d like that.

“How did he get past the wards?” Sirius asked as he took the letter from her.

The boys were sitting on the rug, throwing their remaining food at each other, and didn’t pay the interaction any mind. Eliot’s strawberry nearly knocked Harry’s glasses off his face.

“He didn’t,” Tipkey answered. “Tipkey saw him circling the wards and retrieved it before he could give up and leave. Tipkey thought it might be important.”

“Thanks, Tip.”

When he opened it, their old Marauder charm was on the parchment, letting him know immediately that Moony was the one who sent it. Not that he had any doubts about that. Who else would be trying to send him a letter?

**_To Whom It May Concern,_**

**We really must create an alias for you, so my greeting can sound less like business correspondence. Might I suggest Shuck, in reference to the East Anglian ghostly black dog? Yes, I quite like that.**

**Dearest Shuck,**

**Tomorrow is my scheduled day off. I would very much like to visit if that works for you. It will allow me to enjoy your company without the pain that’s coming with the approaching full moon, which falls on the 29 th this month, as I’m sure you’re aware. You always used to keep such close track of them. I might have more days off shortly. My managers spoke to me after the last moon about being more “reliable” and letting them know two weeks in advance if I need time off. But in my experience, if I tell them I have health issues and need several days off a month, they’re not too fond of that. I find it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.**

**I shall end the letter by telling you about the stupidity of the people I deal with daily. I think you’ll enjoy it. One of my jobs consists of waiting tables at a nearby muggle restaurant. Yesterday, a young lady ordered a garden salad and asked for it to be returned because it had “too many leaves in it.” Yes, you read that correctly. Perhaps next time, I’ll make sure to tell the kitchen to “hold the leaves.”**

**Your friend, Moony**

Sirius couldn’t properly enjoy Moony’s joke, because it was overshadowed by the worry that sent his thoughts into overdrive. Some years had 12 full moons, while others had 13. Remus spent _six years’_ worth of them by himself. He remembered vividly the excruciating pain Moony suffered through. He can still recall the way every single bone in Moony’s body snapped and lengthened. They popped through the skin and back into place to take the shape of the wolf.

Sirius loathed the sound of his Moony screaming in agony. It never got easier to stomach.

The whole reason the Marauders became Animagi was to _help_ him. Without them, Remus’ pain didn’t end when the transformation was complete. The wolf used to be trapped and unable to hunt, but he wouldn’t accept his fate peacefully. He used rip himself apart with his claws, throw his body against walls and out of the tunnel, only to get slammed back inside by the Whomping Willow. If the Marauders weren’t there to distract the wolf and keep him company, Remus always paid the price afterward.

Sirius used to wipe the blood off of Moony’s body with a wet washcloth when he transformed back, and cover his trembling form with a blanket. He couldn’t be there when Madam Pomfrey showed up, but he’d stay until the very last minute. The other two Marauders would already be fast asleep when he returned to the dormitory.

Harry and Eliot weren’t the only ones Sirius abandoned when he chose revenge as his priority. Every full moon during the last six years could’ve been less painful for Moony if only Sirius could have seen past the end of his own nose. He refused to let his werewolf spend another one alone. Sirius already knows the stubborn prat won’t ask for help, no matter how badly Remus might need it.

Sirius hasn’t spent a night away from his godsons since they moved in, but Tipkey and Nissey could make sure the boys were okay long enough for him to care for his Moony.

Sirius cleared his throat and blinked away the tears that threatened to escape. “Boys, I need to talk to you about something important, all right?”

Harry and Eliot sobered at his tone. They stopped playing at once and gave him their full attention.

“You know my friend, Remus?” They nodded, confusion in their eyes. “He’s going to need me in a few days. Friday evening, I’ll leave and won’t be back until breakfast the following morning.”

“Why?” Harry burst out; confusion quickly morphed into alarm. “You can’t leave. It’s not safe! What if those wizard policemen get you?”

Eliot cut in with fears of his own, “What if someone comes looking for us while you’re gone? They’ll take us away! I want to stay with you.”

Sirius was taken aback by their reaction. He knew they’d be a little concerned, but he didn’t expect this level of panic.

Harry's expression brightened as an idea occurred to him. “Take us with you!”

“We’re great helpers,” Eliot agreed hopefully.

Sirius was at a loss.

Maybe he should’ve planned this conversation out instead of impulsively bring the topic up. However, in his defense, how could he have predicted they’d be _this_ afraid at the thought of him leave for one night? He knows he’s bonded with them during their stay so far, but a part of him thought they still viewed Sirius as the unstable guy who showed up and attacked their aunt. They wanted to live here to get away from their abusive relatives, Sirius didn’t think he factored into it all that deeply for them at this point.

Clearly, he was wrong.

“ _Nobody_ is going to take you away from me again,” Sirius promised them. He put the letter on the chair so he could sit with them on the rug. “I’ll have supper with you Friday, leave for Moony’s, and be back for breakfast, or at least shortly after. You’ll barely have time to miss me. The wards around the property are strong, but if anything happens, you can always tell one of the elves. They’ll know where I am. I can’t tell you why he needs me, because it’s not my place, but I wouldn’t leave if it weren’t important.”

Harry and Eliot took in his reassurances reluctantly.

“You’ll come back?” Harry’s green eyes looked into Sirius’s grey ones with determination. “If something happened, or if you were in danger, or someone was outside of the wards, you’d come straight back, right?”

“Immediately,” Sirius swore.

“You won’t let us get taken away?” Eliot asked in a small voice. “We can stay with you?”

“This is your home, Lio.” Sirius put a comforting hand on his little shoulder. “It will _always_ be your home. Even when you grow up and get a place of your own, this house will always be yours as well.”

Eliot relaxed marginally.

“We can talk about this tomorrow, and the next day as well if you want,” Sirius reassured. “I’ll answer your questions as best as I can. We’ll come up with a plan to make sure you both know exactly what to expect. I’m not just going to disappear on you.”

“You promise?” Harry asked.

“I promise.”


	10. Chapter 10

Padfoot’s tail wagged, and he paced around the porch as he eagerly awaited Moony’s arrival.

When Sirius left his boys, Eliot was climbing on the net-like structure in his room, and Harry was pretending to hunt him with an invisible bow and arrow. They knew Remus would be here at any moment. Harry seemed like he might want to meet him this time, and if he decided to, then Sirius knew Eliot would follow his brother’s lead.

The main reason Padfoot wanted to greet Moony in this form, was because people were more likely to be physically affectionate with a dog than a grown man. Remus might greet Padfoot with a hug again if he changed back, but it wasn’t guaranteed. In this form, Padfoot could show how excited he was and demand affection without it being odd.

_There!_ _I_ _see him! He’s here!_ Padfoot bolted off the porch and ran across the yard as fast as his legs could carry him, barking excitedly. The dog felt the wards accepted Remus, and he saw the moment the man stepped through them.

Remus laughed when the dog reared up on his hide legs and licked him, “I still hate the licking, Pads!”

Padfoot ignored his words. Instead, he focused on the hand rubbing his back and the other that was scratching behind his ear. A mixture of whines and yelps escaped the massive canine as he pressed his face against Moony’s throat. His tail whipped back and forth so fast it blurred.

“Where was this enthusiasm last time?” Remus laughed again. He continued to pet and scratch the frenetic dog. “I hadn’t seen you in six years, and you looked at me like I might give you a sound thrashing. I could have used this sort of welcome, you know.”

Padfoot moved back and began to morph. Within seconds, his form grew leaner and rapidly lost all fur until Sirius stood where the animal once was. 

“That's a load of rubbish,” Sirius gave Remus’s shoulder a playful shove. “I was the perfect host.”

“What was it you said to me?” Remus retorted. “Oh, yes, I remember; ‘you look like shite.’ Thank you for that, by the way.”

Sirius crossed his arms and refused to show he was still a little embarrassed about that, “You did! That’s hardly my fault, is it?”

Remus gave him an unimpressed look, to which Sirius maturely replied with sticking out his tongue and turning to walk toward the house.

“I’d offer you something to drink, but according to you, I’m the sort that insults a man and leaves him to his own devices,” Sirius tossed over his shoulder when he walked through the front door. “So, if you want something, get it yourself.”

“Did I offend your delicate sensibilities?” Remus chuckled, following closely behind Sirius as he led them into the Great Room. “You’re the best host in the world, mate. I’m sorry I suggested otherwise.”

Sirius gave him a dramatically haughty look, “Damn right, you’re sorry.”

When Remus sat down, Sirius’s eyes were drawn to the enticing way his trousers tightened around his thighs. _Well, hello there, libido. Long time, no see._ He sat next to Moony on the loveseat, rather than by himself on the couch, and couldn’t stop his gaze from trailing admiringly up the other man’s body.

“You don’t have to wear all those layers, you know, especially not in the summer,” Sirius said, forcing a casual tone. It wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but you couldn’t blame a man for trying. “It’d probably be more comfortable for you if you took off the jumper, at least.”

Moony was beyond fit, Sirius knew that for a fact, and it should be a crime for someone with a body like his to cover it up so damn much.

Remus gave him an amused sideways glance, “That’s what cooling charms are for. I’m more than comfortable, Padfoot, but thank you for your concern.” There was a knowing glint in his eyes that suggested he was fully aware _concern_ wasn’t where the words were coming from.

“If you’re sure,” Sirius shrugged as if he didn’t care either way.

The response was expected, but disappointing all the same. Remus was self-conscious of the number of scars he’s accumulated, but they’re nothing to be ashamed of. On the mature, emotional side of things, Sirius thought they showed he was strong— a survivor. Not many people could go through what Moony has and come out on top, despite everything.

Also, if Sirius was perfectly frank, he found them very sexy. It’s been so long since he felt anything remotely like the thrill of sexual attraction. He’d almost forgotten how much he liked it.

‘ _It’s all fun and games until he rejects your sorry arse again,’_ James’s voice held an audible sneer.

Sirius stiffened at the sound and made a point to ignore it.

‘ _How many times will it take to get it through your thick skull? He will never love you the way you love him.’_

‘You’re not going to ruin my day,’ He thought back fiercely. ‘I won’t let you. So kindly bugger off.’

At that moment, a loud _thump_ could be heard from upstairs.

Remus looked up, eyeing the ceiling curiously. “What was that?”

He didn’t tell Moony about Harry and Eliot the last time he was here? How did that not come up?

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Sirius replied flippantly. “I just abducted a couple of kids.”

There was a brief pause before Remus asked, “Why are Harry and Eliot here?” He knew immediately what Sirius must mean, despite the way he worded it.

Sirius couldn’t keep a lighthearted demeanor in response to that question, “Why? Because Petunia Dursley was just as shite to them as she was to Lily. Who could’ve seen that coming, eh?” His voice dripped with sarcasm and disdain.

Remus stared incredulously. “Petunia? Why were they with her? Albus assured me more than once that they were safe and cared for.”

“He did, did he?” Sirius scoffed, the last of his good mood was blasted into smithereens at the mention of Dumbledore. “The same man who didn’t even make sure I had the common decency of a trial? I wonder if he even checked in on them at all. I bet he just thrust them at that slag and hoped for the best.”

Hagrid’s words from that night rose to the forefront of Sirius’s mind. _He’s a good man, Dumbledore. He'll make sure they're all righ'._ What utter bollocks.

He could see Remus struggle with the urge to defend Dumbledore out of reflex.

“I tried to go to them,” Remus finally decided on saying. “I begged Albus to let me visit at least once, but he told me they’d be better off without contact from the Wizarding World until Harry started school. Albus wouldn’t give me any more detail than that. He wouldn’t even allow me to send them presents on their birthday and Yule, Padfoot. I honestly thought Albus made sure they went to a nice family. There are so many good people out there who want children. Petunia didn’t cross my mind.”

“Moony,” Sirius cut Remus off, unable to stand the guilty expression on his face. “Of course, she didn’t cross your mind. When you think ‘safe and cared for,’ Lily’s horrid sister isn’t going to be what comes to _anyone’s_ mind. Don’t beat yourself up, all right? None of this is your fault.” The other man opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius didn’t let him. “I won’t hear any ifs, ands, or buts about it. We all have regrets, Remus, but neither of us can change the past. What’s important is doing right by Harry and Eliot going forward.”

It was sound advice, although Sirius knew he wouldn’t be able to let go of his own guilt anytime soon. None of this would be happening at all if it weren’t for him. Whereas, Remus was just someone who had to try to do his best in the aftermath of the mess Sirius made.

The conversation lightened considerably after that. They reminisced about the good times, instead of bringing up any more decisions they got horribly wrong during the war. Sirius knows it can’t be avoided forever, but for now, he just wants to enjoy Moony’s visit. Depressing topics can wait.

“That’s not true at all,” Sirius was currently denying.

“Oh, _please_ ,” Remus rolled his eyes. “You had some of the worst ideas when we were in school.”

Sirius balked, offended. “I did not!”

He raised a disbelieving brow, “In fourth year, you charmed the utensils to follow behind the first years and poke them repeatedly on their way to class.”

“The spoons and forks weren’t so bad,” Sirius defended. “More annoying than anything. The knives might have been a mistake, though, I’ll admit.”

“You think?” Remus deadpanned with a playful gleam in his amber eyes.

“It’s not like they got _hurt_. I made sure nobody was stabbed. It just scared the firsties a bit, that’s all.”

“A _bit_?” Remus repeated with a laugh.

“Shut up, Moony,” Sirius huffed. He was only 14 at the time, for Merlin’s sake

Sirius moved as if to find a more comfortable sitting position, and used the opportunity to bring himself a little closer. His leg brushed Remus’s, sending a flare of heat up his body.

Moony was talking — saying something about the time they ordered random items in other people’s names — but Sirius was no longer paying attention. He spent six years in solitary confinement, with only Dementors and a single one-sided conversation with the guards. Aoife was the first person to show him kindness and affection in nearly a decade. He was starved for it. She nursed him back from the brink of death and often ran her fingers gently through his fur to comfort him. It meant the world to Sirius. He’ll never forget her and everything she did for a random dog she stumbled upon by accident. 

With Moony, however, he was forcibly reminded that platonic touch wasn’t the only thing his body craved. He tried to focus on Remus’s words, truly he did, but Sirius couldn’t manage it, not with their thighs pressed together like that.

“Sirius?”

He could imagine what Remus’s toned thighs must look like underneath those old trousers. Even better, Sirius could imagine what’d they feel like, how amazing the friction would be around his cock if he—

“Padfoot!”

Sirius startled; his heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt hot all over. “Yes? What? I’m listening!” 

“You spaced out for a little while,” Remus’s forehead creased with concern.   
“Are you feeling okay?”

_Concern is good_ , Sirius thought, _I can work with that_. If his thoughts had been written across his face for the world to see, then Remus wouldn’t be looking at him like that. Worry was better than whatever Moony’s reaction would’ve been if Sirius had been leering.

“I’m fine,” Sirius reassured and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “I just got lost in thought.”

Remus looked like he was going to inquire further, but his gaze was drawn to the doorway, and his face softened, “It seems we have company.”

Sirius turned and was relieved to find his godsons peeking into the Great Room. He focused on them, hoping to calm his body down. “Boys! Come in, come in.” He waved Harry and Eliot forward with a little too much enthusiasm. They obeyed, eyeing Remus shyly.

It was a stark contrast compared to how defensive and suspicious they were upon meeting Sirius, but he _did_ show up in their backyard out of nowhere, so there was that.

“You look just like James,” Remus told Harry gently. “Except for your eyes, those are your mother’s eyes.”

Harry glanced at his godfather before giving a hesitant smile, “Sirius told me I’d hear that a lot.”

“You will,” Sirius said, just for something to say. His left leg bounced; the quick movements helped release some of the pent-up energy buzzing in his veins.

“You’ll probably get tired of it,” Remus agreed. Harry sat on the loveseat opposite the two men, and Eliot took the spot next to him. Remus’s attention shifted to the younger Potter boy then. “Hello, Eliot.”

Eliot gave him an awkward little wave.

“It’s good to see you. I didn’t get a chance to spend much time with you when you were a baby,” Remus looked at him closely, as if to commit every detail of Eliot’s little face to memory. Sirius understood how emotional it could be, seeing the kids again after so long. “You’re a good mixture of both of them, I think.”

“I get the color from Mum,” Eliot said, reaching up to touch his dark red hair. “Harry and I both have Dad’s hair, though. Sirius said Dad’s hair was always messy too.”

“Uncontrollable hair runs in the Potter family,” Remus chuckled warmly. “I’ll admit the color was a surprise. I always pictured you with black hair.”

Eliot bristled defensively, “I like that my color is like Mum’s.”

“I do too,” Remus responded with such sincerity it smoothed the boy’s ruffled feathers. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was criticizing you. Lily had beautiful hair.”

“Are you staying for supper?” Eliot asked, abruptly changing the topic. There was only so much small talk a person could have about hair after all.

“I’d like to. Is that okay with you?” Remus looked at both of them for that question.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry replied nonchalantly. Eliot nodded in agreement.

“Thank you. What sort of food do you both enjoy?”

“Eggplant!” Eliot pipped up immediately. “Do you like eggplant?”

“I do,” Remus agreed. “It’s excellent in pasta.”

“It’s okay,” Harry shrugged dismissively, getting an offended look from Eliot. “I like fish and chips. Cottage Pie is good too. It has to have brown sauce on it, though.”

“Everything is better with brown sauce,” said Remus, which got a smile from Harry.

“We actually came down to asked if you wanted to come outside and play with us,” Eliot looked at Sirius, hopefully. 

“Of course,” Sirius nodded and eagerly got to his feet. He was itching to do something; he desperately needed a distraction from the heat simmering in his gut that wouldn’t quite go away.

Outside, Sirius turned into Padfoot and bolted. He heard the boys chasing after him as he zigzagged across the yard.

“Are you coming?” Harry called back to Remus. He was following the trio at a sedate pace.

The dog slowed and gave Moony a curious tilt of his head.

“I’m happy to watch,” Remus shook his head and smiled at Padfoot fondly.

Harry readily accepted that answer. His tone suggested he’d asked more out of courtesy than hoping Remus would join in. The boy turned his attention to searching for the ball that was left outside the evening before.

As soon as Harry found it, he threw it to Eliot, “Catch!”

Padfoot pounded the ground with his front paws and let out an excited bark.

Harry and Eliot led the dog into a game of Keep-Away, which quickly turned into chasing him around the yard when Padfoot got the ball and took off with it. Chase became Tug-Of-War, and then Fetch. The games continued until he couldn’t run anymore. The dog played with the children until his muscles burned, and he collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't going to be a Dumbledore bashing fic where I make the headmaster evil. He did make mistakes, though, and Sirius has every right to be angry.


	11. Chapter 11

How polite and proper Remus was when he ate still amused Sirius. He broke off neat little pieces of his bread roll, buttering each one individually instead of taking a bite out of it whole. Remus would tip the bowl away from himself and scoop his soup up with the side of the spoon, careful to take small sips so he wouldn’t slurp.

Sirius himself learned all the little _dos_ and _don’ts_ of supper edict as a child, of course, but his family always looked so rigid and up themselves when they ate. Because of that, Sirius made a point from a young age to break some of the ‘rules.’ Right now, for instance, he had no qualms reaching over to take a bread roll off Moony’s plate, which got him an exasperated look from the man. Sirius licked the remaining butter off of his knife after buttering it and put an elbow casually on the table. It shouldn’t still give him a secret thrill after all these years. It shouldn’t feel like a subtle ‘fuck you’ to his mum, but at this moment, it did.

Sirius’s dear ole hag of a mother only _wished_ she could look as casually elegant while she ate as Moony did. Instead, she looked like a stick was wedged permanently up her arsehole, but then again, when didn’t she?

The difference between Remus and the children added to the humor of it all. Eliot had food on his chin that dripped onto his shirt. Harry had a few scalloped potatoes on the table beside his plate from trying to scoop them up. Eliot was the worst of the two, but neither one of them were particularly neat at mealtimes.

“What a great day,” Sirius said happily. “What do you think, boys?”

“Great,” Eliot agreed around a mouthful of food. 

“Please, don’t talk with your mouthful,” Remus corrected softly before taking a sip of water. 

“I could’ve waited until you swallowed, mate.” Sirius pitched in causally when Eliot blushed. “But it’s no big thing, yeah? Just something to remember next time.”

“I’ll remember,” Eliot replied, meekly, averting his gaze. “I’m so sorry, Sirius.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Sirius reassured. He hated the fear in those hazel eyes and the way Harry had stiffened in his seat. “Okay?”

A gentle reminder to not talk with food in your mouth shouldn’t instill fear. Did Eliot think he was going to be hit, or worse, for a little thing like that? Every day he hated Lily’s sister more. He hasn’t risked asking outright what all happened there, but he pieced together most of it by simply paying attention.

Sirius wished he’d ripped Petunia’s leg clean off.

Eliot murmured, “Okay.”

“Remus just said it to be helpful,” Sirius explained. “Swallowing your food before you speak is a manners thing. This is a learning moment, Lio, that’s all. You’re not in trouble.”

Eliot appeared to believe him this time. The fear gradually left his eyes as he resumed eating. Harry relaxed in his seat.

Sirius was determined to keep supper going smoothly despite that little hiccup, “You’ll come again soon, won’t you, Moony?”

“Of course,” Remus answered, and kept an empathic gaze on the children. “As soon as I’m able.”

Harry spoke up with a confused, “You’ll see him Friday, though, won’t you?”

Remus looked at Sirius. His face went completely blank. _Shite_.

“Yes, I will,” Sirius kept his eyes on Moony, studying his reaction. “But that’ll be different.”

“Sirius,” Remus’s voice was misleadingly neutral.

Sirius knew he’d make a _thing_ out of it. That’s why he’d planned just to show up Friday and tell Moony to deal with it. He didn’t want to argue about something Sirius knew would make a world of difference. Moony _needed_ someone on the full moon.

“I’m helping, Remus. Don’t be a twat about it,” Sirius huffed and wished he’d said it with a little more tact when Moony pursed his lips.

“Yes, Harry, I suppose Sirius will see me Friday,” Remus returned to his food, but Sirius knew that wasn’t the end of the conversation.

Sure enough, after the children were finished and left the table, Remus turned a disapproving frown on Sirius.

“Moony,” Sirius said before he could be lectured. “I haven’t been able to be there for you, but I’m here now, and I _am_ going to help. You’re not spending another full moon alone. Not unless there’s some dramatic emergency that needs my immediate attention.”

Sirius could _see_ Moony digging in his heels and planning a counter-argument while he spoke. Stubborn prick.

Remus pushed his plate away, and kept his tone entirely diplomatic when he replied, “I appreciate where you’re coming from Pads, but you can’t make that kind of decision without me.”

“Bollocks to that!” Sirius _strongly_ disagreed. “You’re the suffer-in-silence type. It’s bloody annoying. You know my being there will help, so why are you determined to be in more pain than you have to?”

Remus dared to sigh like it was Sirius who was being unreasonable, “It’s not about ‘suffering in silence.’ You’re a wanted man with two children to care for. It’s not safe for you to leave the property unnecessarily. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Unnecessarily? It’s not as if I’ll be going to Diagon Alley for a shopping spree,” Sirius looked at him imploringly and reached over to lay a hand on his arm. “I’ll be helping the only friend I have left. I’ve talked to the children already, and we’ve got a plan in place. You don’t have to spend the full moons alone anymore.”

His contemplative gaze ran over Sirius’s face, and he lowered his voice, “You’ve never been around the wolf alone, there was always…” Remus trailed off. The two men shared a significant look as a pang of loss went through them both. _Prongs_. “What if it hurts you without him there to help?” 

_It._ None of the other Marauder’s ever referred to the wolf that way, only Moony.

“I’m not a threat to him,” Sirius insisted, squeezing gently where his hand still rested on Moony’s arm. “He’ll be a little riled up at first, he always was, but I’ll distract him. I promise I’ll be okay. Let me do this for you, Remus.”

The dishes on the table disappeared as they stared at each other. Sirius dropped his hand but kept eye contact while Remus thought it over.

“I don’t like it,” Remus said, but from his tone, Sirius could tell that he’d won.

_Thank, Merlin._

Sirius’s body slumped back into his chair in relief, a slow smile spread across his face, “You won’t regret it, Moony.”

“This is a test run,” Remus had a stern set to his mouth, and a warning look in his eye. “If _anything_ goes wrong, we’re not doing it again. Understand?”

“I understand,” said Sirius. _Like hell,_ he thought.

He didn’t care if the wolf was angry this full moon. He’ll get used to Padfoot again.

“Good,” Remus gave a satisfied nod and pushed his chair back softly so he could stand up. “I best be going then.”

“What?” Sirius rushed to his feet, his chair scraped loudly across the floor, “Because of that?”

“No, because I’m tired. I’d like to go to bed early tonight.”

“Oh,” Sirius could’ve smacked himself. _Today is the 27th. Of course, he’s tired, you needy moron._

Sirius walked with Remus to the door. Disappointment weighed him down. Today was terrific; he wished it didn’t go by so fast. He didn’t want Moony to leave. They were outside for a lot of it, with the children, but Sirius did give him a full tour, and the two of them played a few games of Exploding Snap.

Remus said it’d been ages since he played. Sirius had joked, ‘Oh, not me. The prisoners got to play the guards in Azkaban. If we won, we got to eat that day. It was great good fun.’ Moony wasn’t amused in the slightest. Sirius felt like he had the right to make all the poor jokes he wanted about his imprisonment, though. So, he didn’t care that Moony had given him a _look_.

“See you Friday, Pads,” Remus said as he walked outside. He still didn’t seem happy about it.

Too bad.

“Yes, you will. Rest as much as possible, yeah?”

“I will,” Remus promised.

Sirius tilted his head, admiring Moony’s arse as he walked across the yard. He waited until the man disapparated before closing the door.

“Was he mad?” Harry’s voice startled Sirius.

“What?” Sirius turned to look at his godson.

Harry took another step down and looked at the railing instead of his godfather, “He seemed upset when I said something about Friday. I don’t want him to be mad at you.”

“Look at me,” Sirius prompted. Harry did so. “Moony doesn’t like needing anyone’s help, but we talked it over. He’s not mad at me, Prongslet.”

The tension in Harry’s shoulders eased, worry faded from his green eyes, “Can we go over the plan again?”

Sirius nodded, “As many times as you need.”

He followed Harry up the stairs, to where Eliot was waiting in his room. When they were all situated, Sirius went over everything again; what time he was leaving, when to expect him back the next morning, and what to do in case of an emergency. He promised to come straight back if anything went wrong and made _them_ promise to stay in the house.

It was well after midnight when Sirius retired to his room. The boys fell asleep hours ago. He remembered the embarrassment he felt earlier when Moony gave the blankets and pillows on the floor next to the bed a confused look.

“That’s it,” Sirius said to the empty room. “I’m not sleeping on the floor anymore. It’s getting ridiculous.”

With a flick of his wand, he made the bed firm enough for him to sleep on. He should’ve done that to begin with. Another wand motion, and a quick muttered spell, had the bed making itself up neatly. Well, semi-neatly at least.

Sirius stripped and climbed in stark naked. His mind chose that moment to recall all the little touches Sirius initiated with Moony throughout the day. Anytime they sat down, he made sure it was close enough for their legs to brush, the only exception being at supper. Sirius gave Moony’s hands or shoulders a pat when trying to get his attention. He took Remus by the elbow to guide him when he was giving him the tour. Anytime Sirius thought he could get away with touching him, he did. Moony never gave any sign that it bothered him.

He knew he shouldn’t have. All it did was torture him, riled him up, and forced him to distract himself from his own thoughts. Moony did feel lovely, though. Too lovely. He couldn’t help himself.

“Shite,” Sirius grew too hot and kicked his blankets off. He was mildly surprised to see that his cock was hard. When’s the last time that happened?

He had a decision to make. Ignore it, and think horrid thoughts to make it go away, or…

Sirius’s fingers curled around his cock, almost of their own volition, “Fuuuuck.” He groaned, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Two different fantasies played out in his mind while his hand moved and stroked like it couldn’t make up its mind about which he wanted more. First, Sirius saw Remus in the shower, soaking wet and naked. Moony faced away from Sirius, and that allowed him to admire his fantastic arse and strong legs. Sirius would step up behind him and press him firmly against the shower wall. He imagined feeling Remus’s back against his chest, and how delicious the friction would be around his cock as he fucked Remus’s toned thighs.

“Rem, _fuck_ ,” Sirius groaned. A warm, tingly feeling was building quickly deep inside of him.

The scene in his mind changed abruptly. Remus was leaning against his headboard; Sirius was in his lap, riding him. He could hear Moony’s voice in his ear. _Yes, just like that. You feel so good_. Remus’s hands were gripping his hips, and Sirius could feel his breath, _Hmmm, such a precious love you are. Good, boy._

It was too much. The pressure inside of Sirius was rising. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. The heat that rose from his balls and traveled throughout his body was electrifying. His cock pulsed and Sirius let out a loud moan. He felt all his energy escape his body through his cock. He laid there, completely unable to move for a few minutes.

Fantasy-Remus’s word played on repeat in his mind as he struggled to catch his breath. There’s just something about being called ‘good’ and praised for existing that accelerated Sirius’s heart rate. It turned him into a puddle and made his lover even hotter than they were a few moments prior.

When Sirius could move, he barely remembered to reach for his wand to clean himself up before falling asleep.

* * *

Remus was living in a cottage in Chorley, Lancashire. The small thing was so old and rundown that magic had to be the only thing keeping it standing. It was near the woods, with no other houses around it. If it weren’t for the lights that Sirius could see were on, the place would look abandoned.

The sun would be setting soon. Sirius hurried inside, not wanting to make Moony wait any longer. The kitchen, dining, and living area were all in one room when he walked in. The kitchen was muggle and had a counter that separated it from the ‘living room.’ Sirius assumed — since it had two stools with low backrests — that was were Moony ate. There was wood everywhere; the beams in the ceiling, the floor, the cabinets. The couch and plush chair on the right side of the room were secondhand and mismatched.

Despite all that, Sirius could tell Moony lived here. It was spotless, not a thing out of place, and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen. Time hasn’t made him any less of a neat freak. A book on the little table beside the couch drew Sirius’s attention. There was a ribbon sticking out midway through it. What was Moony reading?

 _Never mind that,_ he scolded himself, _focus_. 

“Moony?” Sirius called, making his way toward the door opposite from where he stood.

Remus came out before he could make it. He saw a flash of Moony’s bedroom before the door closed.

“Hey, Padfoot.” Remus rasped, his sickly pallor twisted Sirius’s insides with concern. “Follow me.”

Moony looked like one strong wind would finish him off. He knew his mate looked ill near the full moons, and a day or so afterward, but was it always _this_ bad?

“Where do you usually transform?” Sirius asked. He barely resisted the urge to grab Moony’s arm when he walked past. He looked like he was about to collapse.

“In the woods,” Remus’s voice was incredibly hoarse. “There’s a shed that’s enlarged on the inside. It’s heavily warded.”

Sirius’s worried grey eyes never strayed too far from Moony as he led them into the woods behind his house. The sunlight broke through the cracks in the treetops, lighting up a dirt path ahead of them that was decorated with outgrown roots. The pair of them trudged on in silence as Sirius breathed in the smell of crisp fresh air and dirt. When they finally reached the shed, it had a rotted appearance and wasn’t very wide. His stomach heaved at the thought of going inside something so small, but he ignored it.

Remus opened the door and walked inside. Sirius followed.

“Nice place you have here,” Sirius was unable to stop himself from saying _something,_ even if that something was stupid. “Cozy.”

“That’s what I was going for,” Remus croaked, sitting down on the bare floor, wincing in pain as he did.

The shed was almost as big as Moony’s cottage on the inside. Which wasn’t too bad, he supposed.

Or at least, that’s what he tried to tell himself when Remus activated the wards. Now they were trapped. He was _locked_ in here. His heart began to beat faster. It felt like he was being squeezed into a small dark cell, and he had an almost uncontrollable urge to run away. _No, no, don’t do this now._ His skin crawled with anxiety, and his eyes shot around the room. 

Remus’s amber eyes watched him closely. “Padfoot?”

“I’m fine,” He lied and quickly sat. “I’m fine.”

It was like the feeling he got when he attempted to close both doors in his bedroom at night, but much, much worse. _Fucking bollocks._ Sirius didn’t like to be closed in while he slept. He could live with that, but now it was going too far. Sirius tried to tell himself that these wards were just like the ones around his property. It wasn’t locking him in. He wasn’t trapped. The walls weren’t closing in on him. It wasn’t getting harder to breathe.

His body refused to be convinced.

Remus frowned in concern, “You don’t look fine.”

“You’re the priority here, Moony. Don’t worry about me.” Sirius snapped; his voice came out harsher than he intended. So, he softened his tone and apologized, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

“If you need to leave—”

Sirius cut that nonsense right off, “I’m not leaving you.”

It seemed like Azkaban left him with more than the hallucinations, there was claustrophobia now too. Wonderful. Of course, it had to crop up at the most inopportune times. Sirius was jittery and on edge, no matter how hard he tried to stop. Moony was the only reason he wasn’t running for the door and blasting his way out of here. His fight-or-flight instincts remained on high alert.

Remus grimaced in pain and took his wand out of the pocket of his robes. “Hold on to this, would you?”

“No problem,” Sirius replied quickly, tucking it in with his wand. _Moony is the priority here. You’re not leaving him. He needs you. Knock this shite off._ “I have a spare set of robes with me, in case you didn’t want to get naked.”

Moony was shy about that in school but preferred naked to ripping up robes he couldn’t afford to replace. Also, he was naked when he transformed back anyway. So, it might seem pointless to try and preserve some of Moony’s modesty, but he knew Remus would appreciate it.

“Padfoot,” Remus started to protest.

“You don’t have to keep them if you don’t want to,” Sirius told him, making sure to keep his voice soft this time. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Remus looked grateful. “I’ll wash them and give them right back.”

“If you like,” Sirius shrugged.

Money was nothing to Sirius, but anything Moony saw as a ‘handout’ irked him, even if they’re given with the best intentions. Remus hated feeling like a charity case, no matter the fact that Sirius could never in a million years see him that way.

Time stretched on torturously until Remus groaned in pain and doubled over. It was starting, so Sirius transformed into Padfoot. The dog was too anxious to stand still. Involuntary wines escaped his throat as he paced.

Remus clenched his teeth when the first bone broke. He couldn’t hold onto his silence for long. Soon, Moony was screaming in agony. His entire body started to mold itself into a different shape. It was just as awful as Padfoot remembered. A person’s skin was pretty elastic, but it couldn’t withstand all the bones breaking and repositioning. Moony’s skin shredded in some places and stretched in others. The skin of his human hands peeled like a banana, and large furry claws replaced them. Lastly, fur quickly started sprouting from every inch of his skin. His clothes were beyond saving.

Remus’s human screams transformed into the angry howl of a wolf.

It was done.

The only difference between Moony’s appearance and that of an actual wolf was his shorter snout, more human-like eyes, and tufted tail. The _most significant_ difference between the two lies in their behavior. A wolf was unlikely to attack a human, except under exceptional circumstances. A werewolf, however, targets humans almost exclusively and poses very little danger to any other creature.

Moony’s amber eyes were almost glowing. The wolf got to his feet and took in his surroundings. Padfoot tucked his tail between his legs when he was on the receiving end of the wolf’s undivided attention. Moony’s hackles rose, his eyes widened at Padfoot and took on a wild look. He bared his teeth and growled.

Padfoot made himself look as submissive as possible.

Moony was not appeased. Usually, that would have calmed the wolf, and they’d start wrestling and playing. This time was different. The wolf _remembered_ Padfoot, his odd packmate that used to spend the full moons with him. Moony knew he was abandoned, and he was furious.

 _Oh, fuck._ Padfoot thought, and Moony lunged.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, guys!

Padfoot quickly rolled over onto his back, exposing the most vulnerable part of his body. “I don’t want to fight _,_ ” he tried to communicate. “You’re the one in control here.”

Moony put a paw on his underbelly. The werewolf loomed above the dog, with his ears jutting out horizontally. His lip curled up as he snarled. Padfoot kept his gaze averted, his heart hammered against his ribcage.

_‘Moony’s going to kill you, and Remus will never forgive himself,’_ James scolded. ‘ _Has my death taught you nothing? Listen when someone doesn’t want to do something!’_

He would’ve responded, but at that moment, Moony bit into the dog’s neck and yanked him up roughly. Padfoot kept his body limp, even though everything in him wanted to kick and claw to break free. Moony flung him into the nearest wall. Padfoot slammed against it with a loud _thump_. A high-pitched yelp escaped him involuntarily as pain shot through his back, and he crumpled onto his side. Moony lunged again, biting the dog all over with growls and snarls rumbling in his chest. First, his lower back, then his stomach, his legs, and Padfoot even got nipped on his snout. The wolf didn’t break the skin, no blood spilled, but the sharp stings felt worse, accompanied by the agony throbbing in his back. 

Moony finally retreated and began to pace stiffly. He was mainly a tawny brown, with prominent black guard hairs on his back, shoulders, and the tip of his tail. His amber eyes burned with fierce hunger, and he periodically snapped his powerful jaws in the direction of Padfoot’s prone form. Each time Moony would reach a wall, he’d whip his body around harshly and head back toward the opposite one.

Padfoot’s ears pricked as he listened to the soft _click, click, click_ of claws on the hard floor, his grey eyes never strayed from the agitated wolf. When his companion relaxed, and his tail dropped from its ridged, dominant position in the air, Padfoot took it as a chance to try and make amends.

The dog kept his ears close to his head with his tail tuck between his long legs. Moony froze to look at him as he moved forward with slinking, slumping body posture. Padfoot was still letting his werewolf packmate know, “I don’t want to fight. You’re the one in control of the situation.”

Moony and Padfoot were nearly the same height, for they were both massive canines, but the werewolf outmatched him in strength. That was precisely the reason Prongs had to help with keeping him in line if he tried to get out of the Shrieking Shack. They didn’t want Moony running down the tunnel and getting slammed back inside by the Whomping Willow. Keeping Remus from getting more injuries was their primary goal, after all.

It still was for Padfoot, even though he no longer had his best mate’s help. He refused to fight Moony unless it was absolutely necessary. Remus didn’t need wounds from him. The wolf has caused enough of them over the years.

Moony looked down at Padfoot when the dog was crouched under him. Padfoot used that as an opportunity to lick at his snout. The gestured showed affection without challenging the wolf’s authority. In a flash of movement, Moony lashed out with his right paw, slicing at Padfoot’s lower throat and the top of his chest. It took him completely off guard, the force knocked him over, and Padfoot felt something warm seeping through his fur.

_I’m bleeding_ , he thought in disbelief. _Moony drew blood._ _He’s never done that to me before_.

With the realization came the burning pain. Padfoot whimpered and glanced up at his companion. The last of the anger drained out of the wolf, and he leaned down to lick where his claws tore open Padfoot’s skin.

“I forgive you,” Moony was saying with the gesture. “It’s over now.”

Moony kept licking at the gaping wound and the area around it until the blood stopped flowing. Each swipe of his tongue stung, but Padfoot kept perfectly still. His whimpers slowly faded until they subsided completely. When he was done, Moony nudged Padfoot affectionately with his snout before standing up.

Remus was going to go ballistic, Padfoot just knew it. Bruises would heal with no problem, but this was going to leave a scar.

There was no movement without pain. Whether it be his neck — where the claw marks were still fresh — or the throbbing in his back, and the spots where Moony nipped him all over with his teeth. The thing was though, a part of Padfoot was hoping Moony would lash out at him like this. It was somewhat cathartic. He caused Remus and the boys so much pain; he deserved to feel some in return.

Remus had to be furious with him, but of course, he wouldn’t _say_ so. Padfoot believed it when Remus said he missed him, if for no other reason than nostalgia. They were many good memories between them. That being said, Padfoot _did_ keep crucial information from him in the war. It would’ve solved a lot of problems if he’d just trusted Remus.

Perhaps, Moony getting out his frustration would help? Padfoot spent years in Azkaban, and knowing how horrible that hellhole was, how could Remus vent his frustration without feeling bad about it afterward? His Rem was the sweet, thoughtful sort, after all.

He was still watching Moony pace around the room a while later, with a sympathetic gaze. It was stifling in here. The door was gone and wouldn’t reappear until the sun rose. An outsider looking in at this moment wouldn’t have a clue how they even got here in the first place. Padfoot couldn’t stand it. He wanted to claw through the walls and breathe fresh air.

How did Moony _do_ this every month? Was there not somewhere he could run where Remus wouldn’t have to fear he’d come across a human?

_This isn’t helping,_ Padfoot scolded himself. _I can’t spend the rest of the full moon obsessing about things that’ll only make me feel even more like rubbish than I already do._

After Padfoot gave himself a mental kick in the arse, he stood. His back protested, so did the claw marks, but he gritted his teeth and forced his legs to move. Then, without warning, Moony rammed his shoulder into the wall. Padfoot jerked in surprise, and his wounds vehemently protested. If he had the ability, he would have cursed out loud.

_Note to self: Sudden movements hurt worse than getting struck by a Bludger._

He barked loudly when the wolf moved as if he was going to do it again. Moony’s hackles rose as he whipped around. Ignoring the pain, Padfoot stretched his legs out and lifted his butt into the air. His tail wagged as he let out a playful, grumbling sound. Moony perked up, and his attention was successfully diverted.

To his immense relief, the rest of the night went by without further incident. When the sun rose, the werewolf began his agonizing shift back into his human form. Padfoot used the time to lie down and catch his breath. Every muscle in his body hated him right about now.

Remus was gasping for air when the transformation stopped. He shivered violently and looked around with glazed amber eyes. Sweat and blood drenched his body, despite Moony only resorting to self-harm once.

“Moony,” Sirius quickly returned to his human form as well and hurried over. “Everything’s all right.”

“Padfoot?” Remus rasped in confusion; he wasn’t able to focus on his face.

“Yes, I’m here,” Sirius soothed. He drew his wand and waved it over Remus’s body. “ _Aguamenti_ **.”**

Cold water shot from the cedar wand and washed away the mess. Sirius dried him off and eased him into the spare robes as gently as he could. There weren’t any injuries besides severe bruising and a dislocated shoulder. The latter was fixed with a quick _Episkey_.

Satisfaction warmed Sirius’s heart as he realized Remus wouldn’t be acquiring any new scars today. He should be able to recover faster than he has in years. Plenty of food and rest should do the trick. A healing potion certainly wouldn’t hurt—nothing fancy, just something that’ll help with the bruising and sore muscles.

What did claustrophobia and his own battered body matter in the face of that? Bugger all, that’s what. Sirius did what he came to do. He was proud of it, no matter what Moony will have to say about it when he’s properly conscious.

“Did… are you?” Remus tried to ask, struggling to keep his eyes open. 

Sirius levitated him. There was no way he’d be able to carry Moony back.

“Don’t worry about me,” Sirius’s voice was soft; grey eyes showed the kind of gentle concern that was only reserved for the people he loved.

Once outside, the fresh air and open space relaxed Sirius to a dangerous degree. Exhaustion weighed him down on the trek back to the cottage. Gravity increased tenfold with every step he took. His eyes burned, and he blinked heavily as a yawn forced its way out. Whatever energy Sirius had left was draining rapidly now that sun rose, and he was free from that suffocating shite hole.

Sirius had to Remus into bed quick, or else he feared he might drop him.

Moony’s room had a small bed, a washstand, and a small bookshelf. The window didn’t have any curtains, and there weren’t pictures on the walls. He didn’t have any on his dresser or nightstand either. Godfrey was asleep on an owl perch attached to the wall. His talons gripped it tightly underneath him as he laid on his stomach with his head turned to the side.

“Good to see you again, mate,” Sirius said to the owl. He made sure Remus was in bed comfortably, and the other man's wand was placed next to the lamp.

Godfrey slept on and didn’t so much as twitch.

“Must be nice,” Sirius grumbled.

He turned back to Remus, wanting to double-check that he was all right. He debated on whether or not to cover him with the blankets. Moony was wearing the robes, what if he got hot? Then again, he might get too cold.

_Bloody fuck_ , Sirius gave his hair a frustrated yank.

After another moment of indecision, he carefully pulled the blankets over Moony, eyeing him closely for any sign of discomfort. When he didn’t spot any, Sirius shifted into Padfoot and curled up on the floor. He needed sleep more than anything. A few hours tops before he made sure Moony ate something and headed back to the boys.

Padfoot drifted off quickly. He dreamt he was back in Azkaban, and chains pinned him to the cold floor. He could feel them digging into his fur, tightening further every time he tried to struggle. One second, he was alone, and then his boys were there. Grey eyes stared in horror as they cried and tried to reach for him through the bars. Dementors swarmed the corridor, causing their little bodies to tremble with chills and terror.

“Please, Padfoot,” Eliot begged. His face dug into the bars as he reached as far as his arms would let him. “Come home.”

“We’ll be good,” Harry promised. His fringe was parted in a way that showed his scar. It was swollen and bleeding. “Just come back.”

Padfoot woke up with a start, breathing heavily. He looked around wildly and was surprised to find Moony’s room instead of his cell. _It was just a dream._ The dog sagged in relief. _It wasn’t real._

The dog’s form morphed into that of a man. Sirius stood against the will of his joints. They screamed their protests and urged him to lie back down.

“Tipkey,” Sirius whispered.

Tipkey appeared with a soft _pop_. She took one look at him and glared. “Young Master wasn’t careful.”

Sirius sighed wearily. He wasn’t in the mood to be scolded. “Yes, yes, I know. Yell at me later. Can you get a bowl of soup for Moony and leave it on his bedside table?”

“Whatever the Young Master wishes,” Tipkey replied tartly.

Sirius gave Remus an exasperated look and sat on the corner of the bed. “Who’s going to give me a harder time about this? Her or you?” He kept his voice low. “I’m never going to hear the bloody end of this, am I?"

Moony obviously didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Sirius knew the answer. He looked up and found Godfrey staring back.

“Hey, mate.” Sirius greeted. “It’s been a while, yeah?”

The owl spread his silvery wings and took a brief flight to land on the bedpost. His plumage was in a relaxed state, loose and fluffy. Godfrey let out a happy twittering sound and tried to preen Sirius’s black hair. He laughed warmly and felt some of his stress fall off his shoulders. Godfrey used to do this to Prongs’ hair; it was one way he showed affection. Sirius felt honored to be on the receiving end of it.

Sirius reached up to scratch him a few times, ignoring the painful way that pulled at his fresh wounds. “I bet you miss him.”

Godfrey paused long enough to give a solemn look in reply before returning to his task.

“I do too,” Sirius closed his eyes and tried to keep from crying. _Do. Not. Get. Emotional._ “I’m sorry I took him from you.”

Godfrey nipped sharply at his head.

Sirius balked. “What was that for?”

Godfrey did it again.

“Knock it off!” Sirius snapped. “I’m hurt enough, thanks. I get it. You don’t blame me.”

Godfrey twittered happily again.

Remus shifted in bed; a frown briefly flickered across his face.

“Shhh,” Sirius urged the Great Grey Owl. “Moony needs to rest.”

They spent a little while longer in comfortable silence. Then Tipkey appeared, and with her, a large bowl of soup with bread on the side.

“Tipkey put a warming charm on it,” She said flatly. “The soup will stay fresh until the Wolf eats.”

“His name is Remus,” Sirius retorted curtly.

She didn’t say anything, just looked at the claw marks that started at the bottom of his throat and ripped his shirt open at the chest.

“I _know_ ,” Sirius huffed. “Can you take me home? I want to sleep a little longer before the boys expect me for breakfast.”

Godfrey hooted softly.

“I’ll see you soon,” He promised.

Before the words were even fully out of his mouth, he was being transported. He landed roughly on his arse in his bedroom; pain flared hotly throughout his entire body.

“Tipkey!” Sirius snarled. “Merlin damn you. That fucking well hurt!”

“Young Master is home,” Tipkey pursed her lips in disapproval and left.

“Blasted old elf,” He growled into the empty room.

He made a mental note to yell at his Uncle Alphard’s portrait in the near future.

“Let’s check the damage, Padfoot,” Sirius said to himself.

_‘Why bother?’_ A deep male voice responded. ‘ _I can tell you what you’re going to see.’_

“Fuck off.”

‘ _You’re going to terrify the kids.’_

Sirius scoffed and crossed the threshold to the bathroom. “Don’t be daft. Why would I show this to the children?”

If it wasn’t James or Lily, some of those random voices were reoccurring. A few of them kept cropping up, and they sounded the same. This one, in particular, spoke to him often. Sirius figured if they’re going to be sticking around, he might as well put a name to them. Would that make the whole thing more insane, or less?

‘ _Why do you do anything?’_

“I’ll call you Devland,” Sirius decided impulsively. “Misfortune. Fitting for you, don’t you think?”

‘ _I think this a new low.’_ Devland replied scornfully. _‘You really should find someone else to take the boys. You’re clearly not fit to care for them.'_

Sirius bristled and tried not to let the words get to him. He loved those kids, which is exactly what they needed. He knew that. Sirius muttered reassurances as he stripped, to combat the insecurities that bubbled up. He was still doing it when he looked at his naked reflection in the mirror. His body was covered in bruises; some were red while others were already turning purplish. The claw marks were long, jagged, and angry looking.

Sirius reached for his wand briefly, which he placed on the sink. “ _Accio_ ointment.”

After a moment, healing ointment came flying into the room. Sirius caught it with his left hand and unscrewed the top. He took thick globs of it and gently ran it over the gashes. He hissed between his teeth and finished as quickly as he could, then transformed and curled up, eager to get all the sleep he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Great Grey Owl can live up to 30 or 40 years in captivity, and in my story owls in the magical community have longer life spans than their counterparts in the wild or muggle captivity.


	13. Chapter 13

The sun bloomed over the horizon, rays stretched across the sky, filling it with shades of orange and pink. A cool breeze rustled Sirius’s hair as he walked across the lawn. It sent a shiver down his spine, causing him to lift his hood over his head quickly. The dark blue robes he wore had intricate golden embroidery and were lined with silk.

Unlike typical mornings, where he’d throw something on without giving it much thought, today Sirius spent half an hour deciding which robes to wear. He got up at an ungodly hour to ensure everything was ready before the boys woke up. It was a special day, after all. _Everything_ had to be perfect for Harry’s birthday.

“Nissey is done setting up Flying Seahorse Fishing,” Nissey’s lavender eyes gleamed, and she clapped her hands excitedly.

Sirius grinned, “Good. You have the wands and everything ready to go?”

Nissey nodded earnestly, her ears flapped with the movement. “Nissey made sure to get them before the Young Master left Friday.”

There were “wands” you could purchase specifically for that game. The only thing they’re capable of is the Seize and Pull Charm. You don’t even need to say the incantation; fling the wand toward the Flying Seahorse that you wish to catch and bring it back toward yourself. Harry and Eliot couldn’t perform the true spell yet, as they were too young. But even if Sirius _wanted_ to teach them, a game wasn’t fun if you had to spend ages doing homework to prepare for it. What 8-year-old wanted that?

“Let’s take a look then,” Sirius passed several other games on his way.

The Flying Seahorses laid on their side on a circular table waiting to be activated. He’s never seen a living one in person, but these looked incredibly realistic. They were covered in tiny, spiny plates, all the way from their head down to their curled, flexible tail. Each one had a horse-shaped head with a long snout and puckered mouth. Their glassy, transparent wings were uniquely patterned.

“Looks good,” Sirius told her as he looked around.

Exploding Snap, Gobstones, Wizard Skittles, and the board game Snitch Snatchers were all set up in their little station, as planned.

 _‘Just going to throw games around the yard and consider it done?’_ Devland snorted in derision in Sirius’ ear. _‘You’re not going to pretend at least to give a shite enough to add decorations? Piss poor birthday festival if you ask me.’_

Damn him, the little bastard was right.

It wasn’t good enough.

“We need decorations,” Sirius told his little elf. “A banner for starters. Maybe some streamers and things? What do you think?”

Nissey nodded and hurried away.

By the time they were done, thousands of colorful streamers hung from every tree branch within the wards' borders. A large canopy hung in the air off to the side, out of the way while still being in clear view. Harry’s presents were placed on an enlarged plush rug underneath it. Various toys and trinkets were suspended in midair on the opposite end.

What’s a festival without prizes, eh? Sirius was rather proud of that idea. Anytime Eliot or Harry won a game, they could choose from the lot, but Harry still got gifts just for him.

“I like it,” Sirius mused to the elf at his side. The pair took one more lap around to make sure everything was just right. “What do you think?”

“The little ones will love it!” Nissey enthused, a bounce in her step.

He fiercely hoped so.

_‘You’re trying to buy their affection to make up for your inability to care for them properly.’_

Sirius’s face contorted with a mixture of hurt and irritation. He officially reached his limit with those horrible little earwigs! How dare they? Today of all days!

_‘How can you possibly do a good enough job to ensure they become confident, responsible adults? Give up now before you ruin them. You’re an unstable mess.’_

“ENOUGH!” Sirius exploded; his fist slammed into a nearby table. He grew red in the face as his anger boiled.

He vaguely registered Nissey jerking in surprise at the unexpected change in his demeanor.

_‘Exactly! You just proved my point. You’ll lash out at them one day like you do with everyone. Can’t you see it? The fear that’ll grow on their faces? The way they’ll avoid you and flinch at every move you make?’_

Sirius reared back and wished that they’d manifest physically so he could have something to throttle. “I WOULD NEVER HURT MY BOYS!”

The hatred he felt almost rivaled his loathing of Wormtail. He’d like to kill them all. Rip apart every nasty little voice with his claws and teeth. Some way, somehow, he swore he’d get rid of them for good.

‘ _We’re you.’_ A feminine voice chortled _._

“No, you’re bloody well not!” Sirius seethed.

 _‘We are,’_ Devland chimed in smugly. ‘ _Everything we say is what you already know.’_

“Young Master?” Nissey asked, her voice small and worried.

Sirius whipped his head to the side, locking eyes with her. He looked every bit as unhinged as the voices said he was. Nissey wrung her hands together; uncertainty lined her face. House-elves were so expressive. Every emotion they felt out in the open for the world to see.

Guilt churned in his gut, but it wasn’t enough to cool the fire inside of him.

“I need a fucking Calming Draught,” Sirius’s voice came out strained as he struggled to reel himself back in. He couldn’t let his temper ruin Harry’s big day.

Nissey quickly retrieved the vial. Sirius snatched it from her and swallowed the liquid in one gulp. The rigidness in his stance loosened as a feeling of peacefulness washed over him. His heart rate and blood pressure lowered instantly.

He let out a sigh of relief, “Lovely, that is.”

Sirius didn’t realize how _often_ he felt one wrong word away from an explosion until that feeling was taken away.

“Feel free to give me another one anytime you see me getting riled up,” Sirius drawled lazily.

Nissey stood taller and puff out her chest, importantly, “Nissey will!”

Now they just had to wait for the boys to wake up. A few hours later, at around nine o’clock, they slumped into the dining room.

“Morning,” Harry yawned.

Eliot waved at their godfather and rubbed at his tired eyes.

“Happy birthday, Prongslet!” Sirius spread his arms with a beaming grin, startling the children. “After breakfast, we can get started!”

Harry and Eliot stared blankly.

“You’re not excited?” Sirius’ smile fell at their lack of reaction, along with his arms. “I know I can’t have people over or anything, but I promise we’ll still have fun. It’s not every day my boy turns 8.”

“Get started?” Harry stared uncomprehendingly. “With what?”

“With the party, mate.” Sirius fought to put a smile back on his face. “It’s your birthday.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I know it’s my birthday. What does that have to do with a party?”

The idea of someone celebrating his birthday was truly _that_ foreign?

“All little boys deserve a great party on their birthdays,” Sirius gritted his teeth. He was sure the smile on his face looked as fake as it felt.

“But freaks don’t,” Harry replied automatically.

Eliot’s eyes widened in horror.

“What did you just say?” Sirius spoke in a quiet, deliberate manner.

The color drained out of Harry’s face, “I… I’m sorry.”

That horrid slag of an aunt should be sorry, not them! Freaks don’t deserve birthday parties? Utter bollocks!

“I love you, Harry,” Sirius tried to say it calmly, but he’s sure it came out strangled. “I love you, Eliot. I need a moment to collect my thoughts. I’m not angry at you. Know that, all right? No matter how odd I come across to you at any given time, know that I’ll never hurt you. Never.”

Harry averted his gaze and scuffed his toe on the floor, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Eliot repeated.

He was proud of himself for sounding somewhat like a sensible adult. The moment he was out of their line of sight, he cast a silencing charm and blew up the nearest object.

“Nissey!” Sirius snarled; rage burned through his body like fire. She appeared instantly. “Give me a Calming Draught!”

One hand snapped to clean the mess, and the other summoned the draught.

“Go to Petunia Dursley and rip her tongue out,” He ordered with a growl, all but snatching the vial from her grip.

Nissey grinned, “Thank you, Young Master. Nissey will enjoy that very much!”

His head cleared, and the tension left his body. Now that he could think rationally, he felt a little guilty. Not enough to call her back, but Sirius knew Harry wouldn’t appreciate him exploiting a loophole in the promise he made. In his defense, at the time, he wasn’t aware of the extent to which she abused his godchildren.

They have no self-worth at all. They think they’re freaks who need to apologize for simply existing. Eliot is traumatized by water somehow – he still doesn’t have the story there. The boys flinch when he raises his voice or if they think he _might_ get angry about something. They were shocked to have their own rooms, receive affection, eat full meals, and that’s just for starters.

Petunia deserved to have her tongue cut off for the poison she’s spewed.

_‘Look at that. You’re a Black after all.’_

“Fuck off,” Sirius muttered back – out of reflex more than anything. The potion kept him from feeling irritated by the comment.

Now that he was feeling more in control, he returned to the dining room. Harry and Eliot had taken their usual spots at the table. Plates of food were left untouched in front of them.

“Today’s your birthday,” Sirius told Harry, taking his seat as well. “So, I’ll just say one thing for today, and then we’ll drop it for now.”

He doesn’t need a lecture today of all days.

Harry nodded, eyeing his godfather warily.

“Petunia is a filthy liar. Keep that in mind, yeah? She’s a bitter cow, and her words should be taken with a grain of salt.”

Harry hesitated, “Taken with a grain of salt?”

“It means don’t take it seriously,” He replied, picking up his fork. “It’s likely to be untrue.”

“She did lie about our parents,” Eliot offered.

“Exactly,” Sirius nodded.

The rest of breakfast went by silently, and when it was done, the boys looked at Sirius expectantly. 

Good, now they can get to the fun stuff.

“I think we do one present now, then games, and the rest of the presents,” Sirius suggested. “What do you think?”

There would be cake too. Tipkey was going all out for it. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on his godson’s face.

“I get presents?” Harry asked, astonished.

“Of course, you do,” Sirius summoned the Magical Menagerie publication. It came zooming in, and he plucked it out of the air. “I want you to do this one first, so Tipkey can have enough time to get everything finalized.”

Sirius handed it to Harry; nerves fluttered mildly in his stomach. He was grateful for the potion keeping his anxiety muted. All kids like to have pets, didn’t they? Surely, this was a good place to start?

“What’s this?” Harry looked at the cover in fascination.

“Eliot is in the process of getting his bees, and I thought you’d like a pet of your own,” Sirius explained. “Pick anyone you like.”

“Wow,” Harry breathed in awed disbelief. Eliot hovered close to peer over his shoulder. “Thanks, Sirius.”

“You like it?” Sirius had to ask.

“It’s brilliant. I never thought I’d have my own pet.” Harry flipped through the pages, mesmerized. “There’s so many.”

“Get that one!” Eliot pointed at a page.

“I don’t want that one.”

“What about _that_ one? Look how fluffy it is!”

“I don’t want that one either! Let me look.”

There was silence for a few more minutes, but Eliot couldn’t contain himself.

“A snake! That’s brilliant! Get that one!” Eliot pointed excitedly.

A snake? Sirius didn’t know why this took him by surprise. He’d never want a snake as a pet, not in a million years, but Harry was a Parselmouth. Sirius would have to get used to having a snake around. He was never particularly fond of them, even before Hogwarts.

“I like that one better,” Harry pointed somewhere opposite from Eliot’s finger.

“But why?” Eliot pouted. “That one’s boring.”

Harry bristled defensively, “It’s _mine_. Sirius said I could choose whichever one I liked!”

“It’s small,” Eliot complained.

“I don’t care,” Harry replied, with a stubborn set to his jaw. He turned it around to show Sirius, with a finger pointing at the snake he liked best.

“Hmmm,” Sirius hummed and reached over to grab it. “Let’s have a look-see.”

The picture was of a tiny snake, slender and dark blue. It was basking on a heated rock. Sirius’s eyebrows rose; he wasn’t expecting Harry to pick something small enough to wrap around his finger. Now, Sirius wasn’t an expert on snakes, but he didn’t realize they came that small. The label said it was 15 cm.

Merlin’s balls, that wasn’t much longer than a worm.

He snorted when he saw what they named the thing, Noodles. While funny, he wondered if the snake was aware of that and found it insulting. The thought amused him. He hoped Harry kept it. The absurdity of a snake with a name like Noodles was too good to pass up.

Below was the information on its breed, so Sirius read closely:

_Dipsa – also known as Thirst-Causer, Dipsade, or Situla – is the smallest magical snake breed. They’re rear-fanged with a diet that consists mainly of snails and slugs. The largest one in history was a mere 50 cm long. Dipsa venom is incredibly dangerous, as it leaves no mark, and the victim is often dead before they feel the bite. The venom rapidly dehydrates its victim until they essentially die of thirst._

_Despite this, Dipsas are pleasant, calm, and highly intelligent magical serpents. They are generally considered to make excellent pets._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's Birthday party will continue next chapter!


End file.
